The Enemy
by burgundyred
Summary: Voldemort, twisted leader that he is, is quite devious. When Draco is told to bring Hermione to the Dark Lord, he doesn't know that her death is the last thing on Voldemort's mind...unusual Darkfic with major twists! DMHG. COMPLETE!
1. Letters of Seduction

The Enemy

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PROLOGUE (Flashback):

Seventh year started out wonderfully for me. My life was assured; I just had to pass school this year and hell--I was an automatic death eater, and all I had to do was kill a few muggles and mudbloods and I could relax in a false world of riches. I never really thought about that word--false. But during that year, I truly began to realize the immense impact it had upon my life. My entire life was one big lie. Every time I watched a muggle die, I didn't feel elated that we had freed the world of "dirt" as my father oh-so-kindly put it. In fact, I felt a horrific sense of dread, as if what I had just done came under the category of wrong. But anyway, the year had started out easily. I had everything going for me--good looks, a girlfriend, second-best student (damn that Granger). And then my father sprung it on me. In a letter, he explained my impossible and haunting task.

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Draco---

Today has come the opportunity for you to prove yourself to the Lord. You will show him just how valuable an asset you are. I always knew my son had this fire within him and this year the time has come for you to unleash it. In order for us to succeed, we must---and I am sorry, this will be a revolting task---have you befriend the mudblood who adores Potter, and eventually dispose of her. As you probably can guess, this will weaken Potter immensely and we will win. 

Your father,

Lucius.

When I received the letter, I had been shocked. For the next few days, I stared at Granger, suddenly overwhelmed at this task that I was supposed to undertake. As she swotted over her Arithmancy homework, I knew that her life was in my hands. But although unwilling and unsure, I dutifully began the task that my father had set for me. I was going to be a death eater, after all. That was my life. I could not change it, so I might as well do my best.

I didn't know quite how to start. Granger--Hermione, I suppose, if I was to befriend her--and I had never had a decent conversation. Luckily for me, Prof. Snape assigned her to be a potions partner for me. I stared at her, nervously. Just a few days ago, I would have been both disgusted and overjoyed at having her for a partner---she was a mudblood in close radius of me, and she would do all the work so I could just kick back and relax. But now, a sick, unexplained feeling washed over me. I had to kill her. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the thought. I had killed before. The only thing that was different was that---well, I really knew Granger. 

"Okay, get me powdered root of horntail and a devil's snare leaf," she said, bossily, bringing me back into the present. I smirked at her. 

"Why don't you do it?" I replied lazily. The easiest way to get to her was seduction, I guessed, and it would be a whole lot harder than the likes of Pansy or Blaise.

"Because I am already pouring in three other ingredients. This is your potion too, so you better get your lazy arse off that chair and help." I looked at her, pleasantly surprised that she was clever in comebacks as well. After years of conversations with girls like Pansy or Blaise ("Oh, Draco, I lo-o-ve you!") I enjoyed having a real conversation with a girl. Without bothering to reply, I got up and brought back the ingredients, then watched as she mixed them in almost effortlessly.

"So, a passion for potions?" I asked her as we watched the potion simmer gently, just the way Snape had described it would (if done correctly, of course. 

She scowled at me. "At least I don't suck up to Prof. Snape."

"I don't 'suck up', as you put it, Granger. Snape just happens to like me."

"You egotistical bastard," she said softly, almost under her breath, but I pride myself on my hearing. 

"Where did that come from, Granger? What right do you of all people have to call me an egotistical bastard?" Surprised, she took a step away from me, and I realized I was probably giving off the wrong impression. I moved closer to her and stared into her brown--no exotic colorings here--eyes.

"I mean it, Granger. Since when have we ever spoken enough for you to call me...egotistical...and a bastard to on top of that," I said slowly, breathily, and what I like to think, seductively. It worked. She looked taken aback.

"Malfoy, don't be an ass," she said crossly, turning back to the potion. A slow smirk plastered itself across my face. I had gotten to her. The plan was working. A part of me felt elated---I was finally proving to my father and Voldemort (I refused to call him Lord. Nobody is _my_ master except for me) that I too, could do the duties of a death eater, but yet I knew, that the closer I got to Granger, the closer she got to the end. All because of me. Right then, however, Snape announced that class was over, but he also made another, rather unpleasant announcement. "Will Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy please stay after for a second," he said. I sighed. Yes, I needed to work my passion upon Granger, befriend/seduce her, make her trust me, and then kill her, but I didn't want to spend time with her because every moment she spent with me was one moment closer to her death. I saw Potter and Weasley shoot sympathetic looks towards her, and only then did I realize that I didn't really need to worry. The hatred that the three possessed for me was valley deep and there was a possibility that Hermione would never leave the valley; that she would always hate me. A part of me really, really hoped that she would.

Two minutes later, the room was empty except for the three of us. Snape looked at us, his black eyes coldly glittering. I almost snorted. While many, like that idiot Longbottom for example, may be terrified of Snape's icy stare, it really wasn't anything to be afraid of. In fact, if you took the emphasis away from his eyes, his expression would be rather comical. I made a mental note to tell this to Granger sometime. I knew she hated Snape. Speaking of the devil, he finally began to speak. "Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy," he said softly. "You two are the best students in this class." 

We both waited in silence; this was common knowledge. "So," Snape finally continued, pretending to be slow so that his words would sink in, "I have something for you to do." Once more we waited. I noticed Granger was twitching a little bit. Maybe she had an itch. Finally, Snape went on. "Nobody at this school has ever attempted to make a Firehorn potion. It is a very dangerous, and very powerful potion. It will take you about four months of diligent, hard work to complete. I have compiled a heavy list of ingredients you will need as well as step-by-step instructions as to how to make it. I expect you to start tomorrow."

"Please, Professor," Hermione cut in, "What does the Firehorn potion do?"

"Really, I'm surprised, Granger," I mouthed, "that you of all people don't know." She turned bright red, although I had meant it as a joke. She really did take it all so seriously.

"The Firehorn potion---and here, Snape paused for dramatic effect---is a potion that allows you to experience life as another person, in essence. Basically, after obtaining an eyelash from the person you desire to experience life as, you can tune into their thoughts, and make them do anything you wish. Many people ruthlessly used this potion to murder, and it would always come off looking like a suicide." I stared at Snape. I knew I had heard of the Firehorn potion somewhere, but at that moment, I really couldn't remember. 

Beside me, Granger was looking at the packet that Snape had for us in awe. "Why do you think he wants this?" she whispered to me. 

I shrugged. "Who gives a damn?" I replied.

Both of us walked out of the room together, but immediately separated as we entered the sea of students. And here I was painfully reminded of my goal. At some point, I had to enter the sea with her, and eventually drown her.

A/N: This just sort of came to me. It's dark, will involve Draco/Hermione romance. This was all in Draco's POV, but I might do a Hermione's POV too if I need to. I'm only going to continue this if I get enough reviews, so if you like it, please review it. Also, I suck, suck, suck at summaries so if any of you have a good summary format for this piece, please tell me! 


	2. Relationships

The Enemy  
  
A/N: Thanks to all...what, four of you, that reviewed. Argh. I wish I could get loads of reviews!! I LOVE MY FOUR REVIEWERS TO BITS AND PIECES!!! Also, * asterisks mean italics since I can't get those to work.*  
  
Chapter 2  
  
I walked back to my common room, exhausted after working for three hours with *Malfoy* on that stupid potion. I was annoyed at him. We had worked in silence, but throughout it all, he kept sending me pointed stares, which were all to easy to interpret. I didn't know what he was playing at, but it was really annoying. Did he really expect me to fall for him after, what, six years of torture? He was insane. Malfoy was the last person in the entire school who was dateworthy; he played girls and everyone knew it. But there were enough bubbleheads in the school that supplied him with a new girlfriend every two weeks. It was crazy. He bedded them and then threw them out.  
  
"Hey, Hermione," Harry called as I entered the common room. He and Ron were playing wizard's chess.  
  
"Hey, Harry," I said.  
  
"What did Snape want to see you and ferret boy for?" Ron asked, although he never once looked up from the set.  
  
"Oh, that. God, boys---will you believe that four months of my precious seventh year are going to be wasted with *him*? Snape wants us to make a Firehorn potion, and it takes four months. Why, I have no clue at all. I bet he just wants to torture me; he knows I can't stand Malfoy.*especially* because he teases me about not being Head Girl...oh, I could kill him!" I balled my hands into fists, truly annoyed at Ferret Boy. He knew the right strings to pull when it came to hurting feelings. He knew how much this whole---goddamit, Hannah Abbot being made Head Girl thing--- really annoyed me, and he couldn't shut up about it during the entire time I had to spend with him. What made it worse was that Ron was Head Boy.  
  
"Hermione," Harry said soothingly. "Head Girl isn't everything. And it could be a lot worse, honestly. What if, say, *he* had been Head Boy and you were Head Girl? That would've been a nightmare." I nodded.  
  
"True," I muttered. "But still, he doesn't have to keep bringing it up."  
  
"Trust me, Hermione," Ron cut in, "being Head Boy sucks. It's so much work. I feel like that git Percy now." I laughed, and then sobered up again, remembering how Percy had disconnected himself from his family. Percy was really something else.  
  
"Well, boys," I said, glancing at the clock that adorned the left wall, "I am really exhausted after that stupid potion. I'm going up to bed. G'night."  
  
"G'night," they called back as I spiraled up the stairs. I really was unbelievably tired. I dropped myself onto the bed and fell into a deep sleep.  
  
* "Mudblood, mudblood," someone was calling. I spun around only to see a shock of pale blonde hair and silver eyes. I ignored the calling, until he came closer and closer and the word Mudblood was a constant.  
  
"Shut up," I said to him. "Don't call me that!" I noticed that he had a sword in his hand. "Oh, mud blood," he said softly, almost provocatively. He lowered his lips to meet mine, and before I could taste the sweet kiss the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I heard a smirk and then saw a flash of bright silver. The blade cut into my skin easily and I lay there, bleeding, the word mudblood ringing in my ears. The world was going black, and I knew it was all over....*  
  
I woke up from the dream, sweating profusely. The stench of sweat was in the air. Gross, I thought, but I could not shake the eerie feel of the dream. Had I just dreamt that Malfoy was going to kiss me, and then murder me? I shook my head as if to rid myself from the thought. No, this would never happen. I noticed that my heart was pumping rapidly and my blood was shot with adrenaline. Shaking, I walked towards the shower. It was all a dream. Only a dream. Only a dream.  
  
------------------- My brain ached with too much knowledge. I had so badly wanted a carefree life, and here I was, stuck as a Death Eater's son on the verge of becoming a death eater himself. Granger's image had flitted across my mind all night, until I had fallen into a fitful sleep and dreamt a horrifying dream about killing Granger. As soon as it was six, I got up and showered, hoping that the new day would let me forget about my horrible task. I knew that the moment I completed it, my father would give me the dark mark that bonded me to a life of hell.  
  
I walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast. My ex-girlfriend, Blaise, sidled up to me slyly. "Hey, Draco," she said coldly.  
  
"Hello," I said stonily, staring ahead. Blaise, although very different from Pansy (Oh, Drakie!) was still a bubblehead. She was probably the prettiest girl in the entire school and I had been thrilled to date her, but I realized that after three months, I was absolutely starved for intellectual conversation. Blaise was the type of girl that enjoyed seeing people get hurt---sadistic to the bone. I had always thought that I was the most sadistic person in the school, but Blaise was far more. After three months, I had seriously considered breaking up with her, but I hadn't until I caught her snogging *Crabbe* of all people. I realized then that Blaise was the type of girl that only went for hot. I was utterly disgusted because I had been replaced by an idiot. Anyhow, even though we were no longer an 'item' as Pansy had once dubbed us (I dated her a little before I'd dated Blaise and Pansy had been jealous...ahh, my good looks can do that to anyone), Blaise and I still remained---acquaintances. Slytherins don't have friends.  
  
"I need you to do me a favor," Blaise said. Right to the point. She always had been.  
  
"Depends," I said casually. I never showed my emotions if I could help it.  
  
"Well, I hate Hannah Abbot."  
  
"Good for you," I said, shrugging.  
  
"I want you to well---screw her---and then screw her over." I stared at Blaise incredulously.  
  
"Blaise, I thought we cleared this up last year. We don't do those favors anymore, okay? They're stupid and pointless."  
  
"What the hell? Only last week we had this discussion and you wanted me to screw over *Potter*, bastard!"  
  
"Well, you refused, didn't you?" I said coolly. Blaise, you are not going to win, I thought. "The thought of sleeping with Miss Head Girl, Hufflepuff loser is revolting. I'd rather sleep with Granger," I snarled at Blaise after she didn't answer.  
  
"Haha. Try as you might, you'd never get Granger," Blaise said, smirking. "Anyway, I'd never sleep with Potter. He's---ugh. No."  
  
"The only reason you wouldn't do it is because you knew just as well as me that Potter has morals. He wouldn't go and do it with a Slytherin slut. He does it for 'love'," I said. Blaise and I had a good laugh. The concept of love made us forget our argument. Love was really for total idiots. -----------------------------------  
  
FOUR MONTHS LATER:  
  
I had succeeded. It had taken me four months of incredible effort, but I had snared Granger. The first month, she had nothing to do with me. But, thanks to Prof. Snape and the Firehorn potion, we had slowly become friends, and now, here I was in the fourth month, snogging her in the empty Potions classroom at night. It was the first time I had attempted to kiss her, and to my half-pleasant, half-aching surprise, she didn't push away. As we broke apart, she did question me.  
  
"What was that about, Ma---Draco, I guess?" I stared at her, not knowing exactly what to say. The kiss wasn't part of the plan. All I had to do was befriend her enough for her to trust me. Romance didn't have to be part of the plan. Why had I done it, then? I convinced myself it was for an extra bit of trust.  
  
"I don't know," I told her, honestly enough. "Sorry," I added as an afterthought. I didn't even bother to realize that I was apologizing to a mudblood. It didn't matter. Now that this had happened---and I cursed myself---her life was over.  
  
"It's okay. I---I don't mind," she said breathlessly. My stomach dropped. Why didn't she mind? Why didn't she push me away? Why did she want to see me again? I had actually hoped---well, a part of me had, at least--- that she would be revolted by my kiss and never trust me enough for me to kill her. No such luck.  
  
Before I really knew what was happening, she pulled me towards her and we were once again caught in a kiss. The kiss before death.  
  
Review, or I'll make Draco kill her. 


	3. That Little Feeling

The Enemy Chap. 3  
  
A/N: I totally love to bits all my reviewers-I'm sorry I'm in bit of a hurry otherwise I'd individually list you all-it's not like I have that many *sobs* Anyway, just wanted to let you guys know I was kidding about the last bit. I'm not going to make Hermione just die right now! Hmmm, maybe later. That's for me to know and you to find out. So anyway, onwards to the fic. I believe I forgot to put a disclaimer, so: Disclaimer: I don't own HP.  
  
Chapter 3:  
  
I leaned in to kiss him, my heart pounding with surprise and fear. This was Draco Malfoy, my archenemy for six years, and here I was, kissing him? I tried to push these thoughts out of my mind and concentrate on the last four months I'd known him. Once you really got to know him, I realized, he wasn't so bad after all. Thanks to Prof. Snape, I'd spent almost all my free time working on a potion with him, and well, we'd gotten to be friends. And then, today, out of the blue while we were celebrating our finish of the potion, he leaned in and kissed me. It was so simple; the way he'd done it. So natural. I almost didn't believe it when I felt his lips on mine; I thought I was hallucinating. But before I knew it, I'd pulled him back towards me, and we were once again locked together by our mouths (thank god we didn't have braces.it was one of the horror stories I'd heard; my parents are dentists).  
  
"Gra---Hermione, what was that for?" he asked. I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant and hide the funky feeling that my stomach was giving me. Butterflies, I realized. Oh god. I was really attracted to Draco.  
  
"Same reason as you," I finally said, upon noticing he was waiting for an answer.  
  
He grinned, and then all of a sudden stopped, almost as if he had remembered something. "What's wrong?" I asked. It was his turn to shrug.  
  
"Nothing," he said. He stared at me for a bit, but before I could react or say anything, he abruptly muttered, "I have to go," and fled the classroom. I stared at his retreating back. What was up with him?  
  
Puzzled, I walked slowly to my common room, a half-smile forming on my face as I recollected all that had happened. I felt, for lack of a better word, weird. I didn't know how to describe it---even to myself. A part of me wanted more than just a kiss from Draco. I wanted a relationship, complete with emotional attachment and eventually the dreaded L word. Love. But another part of me would not yield to this fantasy. The realistic bit of my mind kept reminding me of the harsh truth. He was Draco Malfoy and I was Hermione Granger. It was not going to work.  
  
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I bolted from the room, not knowing what to do. I had just kissed her and she'd responded, and now I was screwed. She would trust me if I kept this up. I prayed that she'd heard of my rep as Hogwarts' resident player. And it was what I did, most of the time. I'd flirt with girls, kiss them, bed them, dump them. My simple four step strategy, sometimes a step in between. But it was different with her; I knew it would be. For one, I couldn't dump her. She had to trust me until I did away with her. Another thing was present, and this was something I was a little less willing to acknowledge. I had felt a pang when we'd snogged, for sure. It wasn't the same "Yes, I'm going to get laid soon," sort of pang that I felt whenever I'd kiss some random girl, but more of a....I'm liking this, I might not even *want* to go further right now. This was definitely a feeling I was not used to. I didn't understand, and wasn't willing to admit that I might have feelings for a Mudblood.  
  
That was another issue that clouded my mind. The fact that she was a mudblood. Honestly, I had never really cared that she was one. Blood is blood and you can't do anything about it, but I had many insults I could throw easily at Potter and Weasley, and finding one for her was a lot more difficult. And that was when I remembered the hundreds of times my father had lamented---"Mudbloods are filling up important space in your school". It was brilliant. I'd found the perfect insult. It worked, too. Every time I called her that, her blood pressure rose and she looked like she was going to explode. Sadly, it took me six years to realize how much this hurt her. But even now, when I'd established to myself that her blood didn't matter, my father's values were still so deeply rooted within me that the stigma that was associated with being a mudblood was hard to pull out. True, my mind no longer flashed Mudblood every time I saw her pretty face, but she really still was one, and I knew that there was no way that I was ever supposed to like a mudblood. It was against all the rules of a pureblooded family. It was flabbergasting.  
  
I entered my common room, hoping to escape to my dorm so I could be alone with my thoughts, but no such luck. Pansy Parkinson approached me, a hard, calculating look in her eyes. "Where've you been?" she asked.  
  
"Finishing up that extra potion Snape gave me," I answered coldly. Pansy annoyed me so much. She was the stupidest choice I'd made in a girlfriend; it was something I regretted to the hilt.  
  
"With the mudblood, I presume?" she continued.  
  
"Obviously," I snapped back at her. "I've only been working with her for four months on it. I didn't realize you were so dense that it would take you *this* long to figure that out."  
  
She laughed, trying to blow off the fact that I'd just insulted her. Instead of looking for a decent comeback, the way Gra---Hermione would have (how had that suddenly come up?) she totally ignored it and continued. "I happen to know that you kissed her today," she said coldly. I stared at Pansy, my heart beat suddenly speeding up. How in the *hell* could she know? I knew Pansy had her sources, but who had been spying? This was one piece of news I did not want publicly displayed.  
  
Angrily I told her, "I was *not*---for once, Pansy, your sources must be mistaken. You have got to be kidding. Can you imagine me kissing a mudblood?"  
  
"No, I cannot. Which is precisely why I would ask you, Draco," she said, stressing my name as if my reply was the only thing that mattered to her. I realized that it probably was. Her life was so completely devoid of anything that really mattered that this was probably her highlight of the day. She didn't have a death eater father to deal with; she didn't have someone yelling "mudblood" at her every five minutes; she wasn't an orphan; she was rich, fairly pretty, and shallow as hell. "Any how," she said after a few minutes when I didn't respond, "I wanted to make sure it wasn't true. You have been getting close to her."  
  
"She's a nice person, Parkinson. Someone I can talk to without having to repeat myself or defend my actions," I said, glaring at her so she got the point. "She is my *friend* you know, something you have never been and never will be. Now kindly leave me alone. I have a shitload of homework." I pushed past her as she looked at me, her mouth forming a perfectly shaped "o", and stomped up the stairs to do my homework. In the background I heard her say something that chilled me---"Slytherins don't have friends."  
  
It was completely true. We don't, because we don't trust anyone enough to be friends. I suppose we've got good reason not to. Look where trust can lead you, for example. Here was Hermione, on the verge of trusting me, and I was about to destroy her life. Being reminded of this sent a sick wave of nausea directly at my stomach. I did not want to kill Hermione at all. She was a sweet person, and coming from my mouth, that was really saying something. She had every right to live her life to the fullest. And I had no right to take it away from her.  
  
Weeks flew by and I didn't speak with her at all. I suppose she kept away from me because she was embarrassed. Under normal circumstances, if I had kissed her, that is, I would have felt the same way. But I had a completely different reason to stay away. I tried not to sit near her in any classes we had together. I cut off complete communication, which meant that I didn't insult her, either. In a way, this was a good thing. Doing so would have only made my task more difficult. Just when seventh year began to coast by again, simple and easy, I received yet another letter.  
  
Draco---  
I trust you have everything under complete control, and that you have made the mudblood trust you. I have enclosed a port key in here. On November 21st, you must hand her the port key and both of you will come to the Lord's abode, where you will proceed with your task. I am sure that this will prove your might; as a result, you will get the dark mark as soon as you complete your mission.  
  
---Lucius Malfoy  
  
I shuddered at the thought of the dark mark searing into my flesh. For the first time, I really began to realize my own dreams. Never had I wanted to be a death eater; I was just pulled along the path by my father and his Lord. I was horrified when I saw the port key. It was a beautiful silver necklace with a glimmering pink gem as the pendant. I closed my eyes, knowing that I was going to have to give this to her, a token of trust, friendship, blooming romance---a token to her death. Suddenly I decided to scan the calendar to mark the date, and I was completely taken by surprise. November 21st was three weeks away! I had to start communicating with her again.  
  
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Love is a very futile feeling. I never really believed in love completely, but I always wanted it to happen to me. Ever since that meeting in the potions room, Draco and I hadn't talked at all. For the most part, I was glad---I was incredibly embarrassed about it, and I didn't want him to think I was desperate or anything. I was disgusted at my feelings. I had always scorned the girl who in essence, picked flowers, chanting, he loves me, he loves me not. And here I was, becoming one of them. Why should I care what Draco thought about me? It was *obvious* wasn't it, now that he hadn't spoken to me after weeks and weeks? He obviously had done it for the spur of the moment; I was nothing to him, just another girl he could proudly display as a trophy. But I knew that it was not true. He would never display me as a trophy. I was something he'd want to hide. That's why he wasn't talking to me.  
  
And then suddenly, out of the blue, he came up to me after lunch when I was making my way towards the library. "Hey," he muttered, barely looking at me.  
  
"Hey," I said, thrilled as I turned towards him. He was talking to me, yes, yes, yes!  
  
"Don't look my way!" His words were sharp, cutting any elation I felt when he'd begun the conversation.  
  
"Why?" I snapped back, turning my head fully.  
  
"That's it, Hermione," he whispered. "When you do look at me, insult me, act rudely, act normal. If *anyone* found out I spoke to you civilly then I am dead. Literally."  
  
"Why?" I said, following his orders and looking straight ahead.  
  
"Because you are...and I promise, I don't care, but others do....a mudblood. And I, *the* Draco Malfoy, cannot be seen talking to a mudblood."  
  
"Well, you know, we've done a lot more than talk," I said slyly, as I turned into the library, which was practically empty. I sighed. It was one of the reasons I loved the place, of course. The peace and solitude were perfect after hard classes, and it was fun sometimes just to curl up with a good book. But it was the same reason I hated the place. Anyone who came here was a *dork* a *geek* a *nerd*. I was all three.  
  
"Shut up, Gra---Hermione. What, you're going into the library?" he said, surprised as he followed me in.  
  
"Well obviously. This is my hangout, after all. I think the entire school knows that?"  
  
"Of course. Well...it's empty! There's nobody here except you and that first-year over there in the distant corner. Hey, I need to talk to you. Sit down in this corner." He led me to the furthest corner in the library, somewhere I'd never been. It was almost totally hidden by rows and rows of books; a completely secluded spot.  
  
"I've never been here," I said, astonished. "I thought I'd explored every nook and cranny of the library."  
  
He laughed. "Obviously *you* wouldn't have been here, Hermione. This little spot is gaining quite a rep, thanks to me. Welcome to the Snog Section of the library."  
  
I was taken aback. *Snog Section* ? Was he crazy? "People don't come to the library to snog," I said stiffly.  
  
"I do, and so do all my little girlfriends," he said, with a real grin plastered across his face. I stared. He looked great when he really smiled---something that was infinitely rare.  
  
"I can't believe that! You're exploiting the whole idea of a library!" I cried shrilly.  
  
"You're so naïve! I've been doing it since what, early sixth year? We always used to be worried you'd catch us because you were *always* here. I guess you're just too dense..." he said teasingly.  
  
I smiled at him. "I guess I am," I said good-naturedly. I'd lost the argument, but I wasn't going to make a hissy fit about it or anything. "So what'd you want to talk about?" I asked as I suddenly remembered why we were here in the first place. Certainly not to *snog*.  
  
"I've been avoiding you for a while," he acknowledged. "I'm sorry. I guess I was embarrassed." He said it so clearly and coolly that I found it hard to buy that he was embarrassed. And come on. Draco Malfoy, *embarrassed*? That was a laugh.  
  
"Really?" I answered skeptically.  
  
He smiled a warm, almost sheepish grin, and my heart flip-flopped in my chest. I felt myself turning red. My heart did not flip-flop. I mean, I believe in love, don't get me wrong---I'm not part of the Love-is-for- losers clan, but I didn't think that I could ever fall in love right now. I thought love was maybe ten, fifteen years ago. I scowled inwardly. I was *not* in love. It was just like. Like like, as we used to say back in third year. "Yeah, it's kind of hard to believe," he continued. "But I really was. You---you're different, Hermione. I don't know what it is. I haven't felt this way before..."  
  
My heart was melting. I was melting. Next thing I knew, I'd be like the wicked witch of the west. "Stop it," I said giggling, another thing I promised myself I'd never do. I didn't *giggle*. I wasn't a preppy, oh-my- god he-is-so-damn-cute kind of girl. And here I was, giggling in the presence of Draco Malfoy. I was such a freak!  
  
He smiled at me, and snaked his arm across to intertwine his fingers with mine. I felt the hair rising on the back of my neck as our fingers touched. Somewhere in the back of my head, I heard my conscience telling me, "Granger, don't get yourself into this...." It's too late, I called back to myself. I'm hopelessly falling for---ugh, Draco Malfoy.  
  
A/N: Can someone please, please tell me how to bold and italicize words for fanfiction? I do it on Microsoft Word and it won't show up!! Oh and review, or I will abandon this fic! Please, please, please review! ( ( 


	4. All Kinds of Denial

The Enemy Chap 4

A/N: Cyberdragon---Ok, the sappy bit…let me explain that. Draco is trying to use sappiness as a tactic to get Hermione to trust him! Anyway, thanks to reviewers, esp. Compellingold, Lizzie, for always reviewing it. It's going to get more developed soon, just setting the stage right now. On to the fic.

So I'd told her why I'd been avoiding her…the usual teenager reasons, embarrassing, blah, blah, blah, stuff like that. What I didn't tell her was that I was already way past the teenage mentality. My supposed goal in life was murder as many mudbloods as you can. And here I was, courting the most important mudblood—Potter's best friend. I "gazed" into her eyes, trying to give off the romantic, I'm-hopelessly-in-love-with-you sort of look as I scrutinized her face. Without being biased in the least, I admitted to myself that she did look decent, I suppose. She wasn't hot or sexy or anything close to Blaise, but she was nice, in a way I'd never seen before. She wasn't edgy or brutal or dangerous like Pansy. She was safe…until I came in, that is. I fed her the bull that teenage girls strive for. I had practiced it down to every last breath, and I knew it came out perfectly. Reassured, I looked at her, waiting for a reaction.

"You expect me to buy that, Malfoy?" she said, removing her hand from mine.

"What?" I was flabbergasted, to say in the least. I had not seen this coming. She was supposed to bend to my will. The love bit was supposed to ensnare her; supposed to make her mine. What was she doing, ruining my hard-thought-out plan?

"Honestly, what a load of shit did you just say? You're different, Hermione, I've never felt this way before? What do you think I am, an idiot?"

I bit my lip in order to prevent answering this in a usual Draco Malfoy way. Yes, Hermione, I think you're an idiot. A stupid bitch who's going to die…even though I'd rather not have your blood on my hands. Mudblood. Pretty mudblood, but mudblood all the same. 

"No!" I protested faintly. "I meant it…I don't know, I…will you be my girlfriend?" Inside I cringed. It _was_ ridiculously sappy. She was not an eager, easy, Slytherin girl who would be trapped by these words. In fact, they were probably giving the opposite reaction.

She stared at me. "Um, you know…we're from different houses. I don't think it would work." With that, she grabbed her books and walked quickly out of the library. She was shaking slightly. _Damn, damn, damn!_ If I had to get her to Voldemort's lair in three weeks, I was officially screwed.

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Whatever compelled me to mistrust the bastard, I was certainly glad I had. Who knew where he was going with this? At first, I had been drawn into his words like a mosquito ensnared in a net, until I found a loophole. His look of sincerity was well polished, I must admit, but it was his personality, his reputation, that hindered his success. Who did he think I was? I knew Draco Malfoy didn't feel any differently about me than any other girl. Well, except for extreme hatred. No, scratch that. He had been nice recently. A friend, I suppose. Yes, a friend, and we'd kissed once. Just once, and he'd launched into a speech about "you're everything to me". Something sappy and silly. He ought to know I wasn't that kind of girl. I didn't go for utterly romantic. I liked something with a twist, an edge. And why was he showing interest in me anyway? I was a Gryffindor, he was a Slytherin. I was…well, not a pure blood, and he was. And it all boiled down to he was Draco and I was Hermione. Certainly _not_ a Romeo and Juliet by any means. Certainly not anything at all. Just friends, just friends, just friends. I was _not _falling for Malfoy, hell no, no, no! So why had I not minded his speech as much as I thought I would?

I had nobody to turn to. If I dared mentioned Dra—Malfoy's—name and the word 'friend' in the same sentence to Harry or Ron, Ron would murder him and Harry would hate me. There was no one else that I was really close to. Sure, my dorm mates, Lavender and Parvati, but although they were awfully nice, I wasn't really friends with them. And that was it. Some were under the allusion that my b.f.f. to put it in a thirteen-year-old girl's words, was Ginny Weasley, but that certainly wasn't accurate. She was nice, friendly, but not someone I could divulge secrets to…especially not one as big as this. So I was there, confused and alone. In the last four months, I had made a new friend that I could share problems with—Draco. But what to do if he was the problem?

I made up my mind. He was not going to play me the way he played the rest of the girls. He was _never_ going to get anything else out of me. One kiss, Malfoy, I thought grimly. That's it.

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I was pissed. My schoolwork was building up like no other, my father was on my nerves, and I had to kill Granger. How many people can accomplish all of that in their seventh year? I wanted to bail so badly. I wanted to tell my father to screw himself. He was completely obsessed with Voldemort; he just needed to give it a rest. And now he'd brought me into it. I scowled. Why was it so difficult to kill Granger? And why had I even tried to be romantic? She had already trusted me, like a friend. I didn't need to spring romance into it…why had I?

I shrugged it off. I'd probably used romance as a surefire way of getting her, and it had backfired. Jesus, I thought angrily. Granger, how can you not want to be with me? How can you resist it? I sulked in my common room, alone with my thoughts and the burning fire. Fire has always consumed my interest, it's hot soft yellow flickering gently, almost calling to me. I stared at the fire in the fireplace. 

It's flames were licking, teasing me, taunting me. I could almost feel the hot tickle upon me. I stepped closer, mesmerized by the burning flame as it danced in the fireplace. If I could just step into it, have it eat me away, be consumed by the fresh burning, I would be safe, I wouldn't have to worry about anything…

I lifted my foot up, ready to dip it into the hungry flames. I was going to feed them, they would be so happy…just as I dipped it in, my eyes reflecting the golden dance of the flames…

"_Draco!_ What the bloody hell are you doing?"

A/N: I'm so sorry that it's soo short, but I'm kinda low on time. I'll probably put up another chapter either today or tomorrow though so don't worry too much. BUT if you don't review, I'll make the fire EAT him!!! Muahaha! *Looks pointedly at the little button* It's calling you the way fire calls Draco! So review, review, review!


	5. Fancying the Portkey

The Enemy Chapter 5

I whipped around suddenly, withdrawing my foot from the caresses of the fire. Blaise was standing there, hands on her perfect hips.

"_What were you doing?_" she yelled angrily. I looked at her, dazed. In all reality, I had no idea what I was doing myself. I had never lost it like that before. I had been completely unaware that I was about to feed my body to the flames. But I could not give her the impression that I, for once, did not know what to do next. So I regained my cool and composed nature, and stared her right in her dark eyes.

"What did it look like, Blaise?" I said nonchalantly. Hopefully her answer would give me a clue as to what to say next. 

"Like you were about to jump into the fire. What, you want to commit suicide?"

I opened and closed my mouth furiously. Although the idea was appealing, Malfoys do not commit suicide. They stay and take what is given to them, and this is what I was always taught.

"Of course not, Blaise. That's stupid. Do I look like a little, depressed weakling?" She stared at me harshly, almost inquisitively. I had to strain my ears to hear her next words. 

"Are you?"

I scowled. "I'm not," I told her as I stomped off to my dormitory, thoughts swarming in my head like bees. _You're not an idiot, _I told myself, _never lose it like that again. If Blaise hadn't come in then…_I shuddered to think what would have happened.

As soon as I entered my dormitory, I took out a piece of parchment and began to scribble a letter. 

Father—

Although I am spending most of my time trying to clasp Granger in my clutches, I have noticed a slight slip in my grades because of this. I was wondering if you could give me a little extra time so I may pull my grades up and hopefully come first. As you know, the mud blood usually comes first, and I was hoping that I could have a go before I dispose of her filthy body.

—Draco

That ought to do it, I thought angrily. My father would never refuse school after all, and he would love the fact that I'd insulted Granger so much in that bloody letter. How many times had he complained that I was second to a mudblood? Although I knew that I would never top her in grades, my father had to believe so. Perhaps it would help redeem his low opinion of her. Perhaps it would save her…. No, it wouldn't. Nothing would save her now. Nobody except me, and I was bound to the life of a death eater.

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I couldn't believe he occupied my thoughts. He, the last person that I should care about, was invading my thoughts. Why? What had I done to deserve this? Why had we become friends? Why had he kissed me? Was he really changing, or was it just my overactive imagination? It was bloody midnight and I couldn't sleep; my brain was foolishly wasting time deciphering his actions. I knew perfectly well it was not logical for me to obsess over a boy, but here I was, doing exactly that. And I couldn't stop myself. It was like an addiction, almost. I _had_ to think about him. I _needed_ to think about him. If I didn't, my mind would automatically delve into a state of complete insomnia. And if I did, I stayed awake anyway. I was doomed. 

Suddenly I heard a knock at my door. I glanced at the clock. 11:53 p.m. Who in the bloody hell would come knocking on the girls' dormitory at 11:53 p.m.? I

knew perfectly well that girls and boys did 'get together' after hours, but nobody bloody knocked on the door. They planned it in advance. Sighing, I rolled over in my bed, trying to ignore it. But the knock came once again, louder this time. I gave up. It wasn't like I could sleep anyway. Shuffling towards the door, I was overcome with sleepiness, but I threw off the feeling and opened up. To my surprise, a disheveled looking Malfoy stood there.

I yawned, although in reality, I was suddenly wide awake. "What do you want?" I asked roughly.

"Please, look…we really need to talk. No shit…just come down to the common room."

"How did you get into the Gryffindor house anyway? And how'd you get to the girls dorms?"

He smiled mischievously. Very cute, I found myself thinking, until I realized what I was really saying and told myself what a bastard. "I've got my ways, Hermione."

I shrugged off the fact that he'd called me Hermione. 

"Why do you want me to come?" I said, trying to act as if I didn't care. Yeah bloody right. 

"Because. We need to talk."

"Since when did you want to talk to a mud blood?" It didn't hurt anymore. I'd heard the word so much it had lost all of its powerful meaning.

"Since now. Are you going to haul your arse down or will I have to do it for you?" He said it so domineeringly that I felt compelled to 'haul my arse' down. I followed him into the familiar Gryffindor common room. I couldn't help wondering how he felt about this new territory. Was the Gryffindor common room nicer than that of the Slytherins? I imagined theirs to be cold and dark, very much like Snape's dungeons. He plopped down onto one of the burgundy sofas, tinted with a lovely gold border, the beauty completely lost on him, and stared at me. A little intimidated, I sat down across from him.

"Well?" I said, expectantly.

"Well…look. I know that…we've got some stuff between us."

"Tell me something I don't know, Malfoy."

"I see you're getting a little cocky, Miss Know-it-all." 

I felt ecstatic. The thrill of arguing heatedly with Draco Malfoy was one of the best feelings in the world. It was almost a high for me. I felt a rush of air behind my ears although the air in the common room was still and hot like summer. "So what if I am? What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know. I might just have to…" To my shock, he leaned in and before I could protest I felt Slytherin lips upon me. And I kissed him back, being the bloody idiot I was. Why? It felt so good…why did he kiss so nicely?

"What was that for?" I asked quietly when he finally pulled away. He shrugged. Then with a beautiful smile, he turned around and left the common room, his forest green cloak billowing behind him.

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Smugly, I entered my dorm. Perfect. It had been beautifully executed. I could not have done it any better. The adrenaline from my nightly escapade was still going strong as I clambered into bed. Ten minutes later, I was still wound up. I tried to shrug it off. The kiss wasn't anything, was it? In all honesty, I hadn't gone down there in order to kiss her. I'd only gone down to talk to her, hopefully to make her realize that well…she could trust me. But the kiss, it had been the clincher! I knew now that she was going to obsess over me. I knew she liked me. But…why did I want her to like me, besides the obvious reason? Why had her kiss felt so good? What? What was I thinking? This was mud blood Granger! No need to fall for her, she wasn't going to be around anyway.

A few weeks after exchanging stares with Hermione and making her even more excited to see me (oh was I good, or was I good?), I received yet another letter from my father. Perfect, perfect, perfect. I had even longer to draw Hermione into a world of deceit and trickery and lies and treachery and…I sighed, feeling a little numb. She was pretty nice, although I hated to admit it. And she kissed…well…pretty good. I didn't want to kill her.

Draco--

You obviously don't understand that no matter what, the Dark Lord is always first. I expect you and the mud blood to arrive in one week. No arguments. I expected better of you. We shall all be waiting in the Lord's lair.

-- Your father

I stared at the letter for a few seconds, my heart beating rapidly. Then calmly, I ripped it into tiny shreds and threw it in the dustbin. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, but my eyes scrunched up in immense anger anyway. Damn that man! He was such a bastard! "The Lord comes first" my arse! Bloody bastard! I was good with girls, but I could not get her in a week!! And I didn't even want to get her anymore! Why should I deliver her to the Lord? What had she done anyway? And what was I going to get out of it? A Dark Mark? Some reward! My arse! I was not going to take her, I decided. 

Of course, I changed my mind rather quickly. I had to take her, otherwise my father and his cronies would not hesitate to dismember me. I was really not worth that much to my father. Of course, he wanted to be proud of me, but say I rebelled--he'd kill me before he let me ruin his reputation. Oh, damn him and his reputation. I hated that man so much, but not as much as I hated my "lord". Lord my arse. Nobody was Draco Malfoy's lord!

The next day, I woke up almost in a cold sweat. Only six more days. I raced to get dressed, and didn't gel my hair--I knew it would suit her fancy. I walked down to breakfast very casually--no, almost sauntered in--and sent her a sexy glance. She turned beet red. I wanted to laugh, but only smiled at her, because I had to remember--give her necklace, make her accept, six more days--oh, did my life suck or did it suck. Luckily for me, double potions was that morning. Hermione and I were doing extremely well, thanks to the Firehorn potion's top grades. I still couldn't remember where I'd heard that before, but I knew I had. 

Snape was assigning an easy potion today that had to be worked on in pairs. "Pick your partner," Snape grumbled. I could tell he was pissed. This was the best opportunity yet to talk, flirt, with her. "Granger," I called out, making her spin on her toes. 

"What?"

"Partners?" The entire class swiveled their heads in my business. Nosy bastards.

"Uh…sure," she said shrugging, shooting a puzzled look in Potter's direction. Ah, Potter, I thought grimly, I've ousted you. You thought you were Granger's little boy toy…ah, look at me, she's going to be _my _partner. Enjoying the disgusted look on Potter's face, I turned to face Hermione.

"What's up?" I asked, trying to be nonchalant.

"Not too much. And you?"

"Staring at a beautiful girl," I said, smiling at her. I was shocked. Had I just said that! How cheesy! How incredibly corny! No way was she going to swallow that bull! I never used lines like that. Ever. What had gotten into me? Those would never work on her. Oh Jesus, I prayed. Please bloody accept that.

To my surprise, she only giggled. "Idiot," she said, playfully swatting at me with a book. Oh wow, my line had actually worked. I sighed, relieved. 

"So…the potion. We're experts at potions, aren't we?" She said brightly. 

"I don't know, are we? I know we're experts at…" I leaned in to whisper in her ear, her bushy hair tickling my face. It felt sort of nice, actually. 

The week passed in much the same way. We flirted a hell of a lot, and ended up kissing just once more. The morning I had to get her finally arrived. I woke up feeling shaky. I really did not want to do this, but what choice did I have? What could I do? If I didn't go, Voldemort would kill both her and me. And if I did go, he'd only kill her. One less death, right? I tried to reason it out, trying to convince myself. 

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I woke up feeling light and airy. As I stretched I realized the day outside was beautiful. Immediately Draco sprang to my mind. I no longer fought it off, but I was quite surprised that he of all people could have this effect on me. I fancied him, I admitted to myself. He was edgy and sexy, and daring, and…just, I couldn't describe it. He was…well…I wouldn't mind being with him. 

All day long I looked for him but to my surprise he seemed to be avoiding me. I asked Harry and Ron if they'd seen him, and both replied, disgruntled, "Thank god I haven't seen that ferret today." I sighed. "You know," I told them, "He's really not that bad."

"Only because he flirts with you."

"No! We're just friends!"

"My arse. Be careful, Hermione. I don't trust him," Harry said beseechingly.

"I don't know," I said, a little seed of doubt sowing dirt in my mind. "I think he just may be alright."

Later that day, he proved it. He sent me a note to meet him outside at 10:00 p.m. I was so excited! I stared longingly at the tree he'd assigned as a meeting place, fantasizing about what would happen at 10:00. Maybe he'd ask me out. I wondered if I would say yes. Wouldn't it be so strange…Draco Malfoy as my boyfriend? 

Ten finally arrived. I stepped out, and then immediately began to worry. I should've put some make-up on or something, I thought. After all, this is the guy I fancy. I walked out at precisely ten, and to my disappointment, he was not there. I decided to wait for ten minutes and no more, or otherwise I'd seem desperate. He came at 10:04, looking rather worried actually. Perhaps he was scared that someone would see us.

"Hey," he said. He sounded really nervous. Maybe he _was_ going to ask me out!

"Hey! What's up?" I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. 

"Listen, Hermione…I want you to know…um…whatever happens, I…fancy you." It was almost a whisper.

"I fancy you too," I said softly.

"I'm so sorry," He whispered, pulling out a gorgeous necklace with a beautiful pink gem as a pendant, and unclasping it. I smiled happily. He was going to put it on my neck. I was so enraptured by the necklace I didn't even notice what he was saying.

"Sorry about what?"

"This." He leaned in to kiss me, and as I felt his lips on mine, I heard him fastening the necklace on. And before I understood it, in a swirl of emotions, I could feel his lips and the cool touch of the necklace…and a jerk below my navel?

A/N: Well, Fanfiction has been screwing up my format. Hopefully it isn't too bad. Anyway, please review…or he's going to KILL HER!!! Muahaha! Lol, well, maybe, maybe not. Read and review, and I shall post quickly. 

__


	6. The Lord's Lair

The Enemy Chapter Six

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. I love you guys to bits. This is an important chapter so I'll just hurry up to it. And believe me, this is not the last chapter at all!

So I stood there, lost completely in the swirl of emotions, my mind screaming at me to stop kissing him and start paying attention to the odd sensations around me but my body not responding. Finally I used mind over matter and pulled myself away, gasping, wanting to speak to him but too bewildered by my surroundings to do so. Finally we landed. I observed with scrutiny, trying to pretend like I didn't care, but in all honesty I was terrified. I looked over at Draco, hoping to see the terror I felt masked on his face as well, but he looked cool and calm and a little…apprehensive?

"Where are we?" I asked nervously.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

"Sorry about what? Answer my questions, goddamit! Where the hell are we? What is going on?"

"I'm sorry." And he refused to say anything more.

I made one last attempt to get any information whatsoever out of him. "Please, Draco," I said, swallowing so that my tears of fright and shock didn't spill, "Please tell me what's happening. Please." He stared at me for a moment, and finally opened his mouth to speak, but what came out was a shrill, high-pitched voice that Harry had described in nightmares.

I turned around to face the snake of a man as he spoke. "In my lair, Miss Granger," he said coldly. I shuddered, involuntarily. I wanted to scream but I held it in. There stood Voldemort, in all his glory, decked in scarlet-burgundy colored robes, reminding me with a sick wave of nausea that it was the color of blood. 

I felt myself going pale. "What am I doing here?" I asked quietly, praying that I would get out of the situation _alive_.

"Why don't we ask Mr. Malfoy," Voldemort said. He was sick, I decided. Sick and twisted and sadistic, probably receiving pleasure from the torment that I was feeling.

I spun around to look at Draco, his head down, blonde locks falling into his eyes. If I hadn't known any better, I would have guessed that he looked ashamed. Why would he be ashamed? What had he done?

"No, Miss Granger. That Malfoy will have a turn to speak later. How about this Malfoy," he said, thrusting the vile presence of Lucius Malfoy in front of me.

"Lucius Malfoy?" I gasped. What the hell was going on? 

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I looked down, not wanting to show the compassion I suddenly felt for her. What had I done? Why had I brought her here? I had not thought of the emotional torture my father would give her before they finished her off. And sure enough, he began immediately.

"So…Miss Granger," he said brightly. Brightly. This was his idea of _fun._ Torturing Mud Bloods and then killing them. God I lived with such a pleasant personality, no wonder I had problems accepting her.

"What is it you vile, evil, piece of co…" My father stopped her ranting with a simple hand gesture.

"Quiet, Mud Blood. Any…musings as to why you're here?" He asked. It sounded like he asked what the weather was like. Honestly, didn't it bother him to force people into psychological terror? 

She looked down, defeated. A feeling of loss surged through my heart. I hadn't even realized I'd been rooting for her.

"Well…let me explain it from the very beginning. Now, do you honestly think such a prominent boy like my son would take interest in a filthy little mud blood such as yourself?" 

I wanted to reach out to her as she bit her lip, trying not to cry. "What?" she whispered.

"Oh yes," my father continued. I wanted to hurt him. How could he do this? Couldn't he see it was so wrong? "Draco would never look twice in your little mud blood direction if he had not been instructed to do so by his Lord."

My blood began to boil at the same time that her tears began to fall. I _hated_ the bastard that was my father; how in the hell could he say that I would obediently follow anybody? I wouldn't have looked at her if it hadn't been for my "Lord"? Voldemort was not my lord! Nobody was my lord! _I was my own lord!_ I would too have looked in her direction! She was smart, pretty, incredible…I stopped the trail of thought that had flooded my mind almost immediately. Had I really thought that? I listened to what my father was saying to her, and I realized I really had thought that. It sounded like I almost…loved her. How sickening, really. But I had to find out. I couldn't let them kill her, no, I had to know where it would go from here.

"Yes, my sweet, he befriended you…disgusting, isn't it, not to get into your pants but to bring you here to the Lord himself so we could have revenge on Harry Potter," my father was saying, almost as if he was reciting the spending total for the month. Hermione shot a pleading glance at me, of betrayal, of shattered trust and broken hearts, and I couldn't take it anymore.

"Father, stop," I said quietly. I didn't know what else to do; if I spoke out too much he would not hesitate to kill me.

Both my father and Voldemort spun around, and I noticed that four other Death Eaters emerged from the shadows. In spite of myself, I began to tremble a little bit. What were they going to do?

"What did you say, Draco?" My father asked softly. I knew him well enough to know that the softer his voice got, the more dangerous he became. 

I opened and closed my mouth, for the first time at a loss for words. What was I supposed to say that would still save Hermione's skin but wouldn't finish me off? I was relieved when Voldemort opened his mouth to speak but that was until I heard the high-pitched words coming out of it.

"Lucius," he said, rather lazily, "I think your boy's gone soft on the girl." 

My father laughed, a cold, mirthless laugh, more of a Hilarious-joke-my-lord-but-if-my-son-did-that-I'll-have-his-arse sort of laugh. "Is it true, Draco?" He said off-handedly but his eyes flashed with a resilient anger.

Once again, I didn't know what to say. I made the mistake of looking over at Hermione, tears silently spilling down her cheeks, and I knew. I had 'gone soft' on her. I couldn't let them kill her.

"I…I just don't think we can kill her," I said softly. "She doesn't need to die."

"Oh, but here is where you're wrong," my father responded, angrily. "She does. The minute we kill her off, Harry Potter's life is ruined. It's the easiest way to get him, don't you _understand_?" He talked to me as if I was five years of age.

"It won't affect Potter," I told him, miserably, hoping and praying that it would work.

"And why wouldn't that be?" I almost had to strain my ears to hear him. Oh, God was I in bloody deep or was I in.

"B-because Potter will only work harder for revenge."

The 'Dark Lord' cut in. "Oh, I don't think so," he said breezily. They really didn't care! They really didn't care if they committed five hundred murders in a night; life went out without any shame whatsoever. They didn't know Hermione! They didn't hesitate to want to take away the life of possibly the smartest witch Hogwarts'd ever seen! 

"Why not?" I said, trying to keep my voice down, trying to keep the rage out.

"Draco!" My father said sharply. "Do not speak that way to your lord!"

I wanted so badly to retaliate but I knew I'd be done for if I even said a syllable against Voldemort. I looked at Hermione, who was looking down at the black dirt, and I felt helpless. What could I possibly do to save her?

"Oh, Malfoy," Voldemort said. "Don't speak to your only son that way. You might just get him riled up, and then you wouldn't have a son at all!" They both laughed hearty, yet mirthless laughs, pretending. It was all pretenses. My father, the bastard, didn't care for me an inch when it came to Voldemort versus me. I couldn't stand the bloody hypocrite.

"Draco," my father said. "The Lord is bloody right. You fancy a mud blood!" They both glared at me, and I could feel Hermione's heated gaze as well. You better appreciate this, I thought. You don't know how much shit I've just landed myself in.

"So what if I do?"

"Oh, not too much. First I'll let the mud blood witness a little swishing and flicking of my wand, and then I'll do the same to her. Do you understand, Draco, or do I have to repeat myself?" Father said coldly.

"No, Lucius, not now. I have a feeling that that is not the best answer to this little unforeseen…problem," Voldemort said, his snake like features glistening in the moonlight. He turned to discuss something with my father and for the moment their attention was distracted from the both of us. Probably planning out a joint torture session. Yep, that's how Death Eater fathers showed their love for their families.

"Won't we be missed?" I heard Hermione whisper to herself. 

"No," I whispered back "I'm so sorry, Hermione…" I began.

"Don't." She turned away, and I was embarrassed. Ordinarily I would have wanted to kill her for looking away from _my _face but somehow, I knew what she'd done was right. If I were in her position…I would have done the same. I would have turned away from Draco Malfoy.

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I trembled with fear. What had I done, trusting that stupid Death Eater like that? How could I have opened my _soul_ to him, only to have it betrayed? I stood there, waiting for the verdict. They were going to kill me, no doubt, but it was Draco's situation that was negotiable. Perhaps they'd kill him too. A part of me was glad. He should die, for committing such horrible acts! He had to die! But for the most part, I did not want him to die. After all, it wasn't really his fault, was it, having a bastard for a father who routinely drilled stupid ideas in his head? 

And he had tried to help me. I had almost felt my heart bursting with well, surprise, when he had argued for me. In fact, he'd put his life in danger by saying the things he'd said, and I suddenly felt ashamed for not acknowledging this. I turned my face back towards him, and I could see his breath was jagged with fear. Mine was probably the same. I wondered if we were going to even see the light of day again. Perhaps they'd decided to kill us both. 

I looked into his eyes as he looked into mine, and gave him a small, rather watery smile. The best I could muster under such intense fear. In return, he groped in the darkness for my hand, and for the moment, I was calmer, knowing I had some support in the lair of a snake.

Our hands locked tightly together, I turned to listen to the conversation, hoping I could grasp something as to what came next. I heard his name many times, as well as the highly offending 'mud blood'. I was not a mud blood; how dare they call me that! I was so much more. 

I couldn't die now!

I looked over at Draco, and mouthed the only word that sprung to mind. "Please."

I didn't even know what I meant.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stared at her beautiful red lips as she mouthed the word to me. I had no idea what she meant; there was no way I could save her anyway. I was just as much in hell as she was. After what seemed eternity, the bastards turned back to us. Immediately I felt the slack of her hand separating from mine. Good, I thought, it had been exactly what I was going to do. No need to fuel their anger, after all. 

"Draco," my father began. "So you want the mud blood to live." He said it expectantly.

Nervously I answered him.

"Yes."

"You do know the consequences."

I nodded. And I would have to accept them, my heart beating wildly.

"However--" As soon as my father began his sentence Voldemort cut him off himself.

"All right then, who shall I do the honor of…disposing…first? Your son, or the mud blood?" He asked brightly.

"My Lord!" My father seemed to want to protest. "I thought…we…let him go, didn't you say?" 

"Oh, no, Lucius. He has deviated from my command."

"But that's not what we discussed…"

"Be quiet, Malfoy, or I'll do you in too."

My father kneeled to the ground as a humble gesture, and Voldemort smiled a rather wicked smile. He's got something up his sleeve, I thought. I knew he did. He wasn't going to kill me; he was going to do something much worse…what was it going to be…

"All right, Lucius, get up, that's enough. I actually have something a lot better in mind…"

"Thank you, my Lord, thank you…" God, father, don't be such a bastard in front of your Lord, I thought angrily. 

"No, Lucius, what I am about to do is something wonderful. First, I am going to give your son the Dark Mark."

My father looked up, beaming. The sick man was beaming that I was going to have to be in Voldemort's service my entire life. Thanks, Dad, I thought miserably. Exactly what every son wants.

The pain as he inflicted it into my flesh was really excruciating. I closed my eyes in agony, hoping that it would be over soon. A few minutes later I opened my eyes and examined the pale flesh on the underside of my arm. A gleaming, throbbing, Dark Mark. My lower lip trembled as I struggled not to cry. It was all over then. They weren't going to kill me, then, but I was forever with the Dark Lord, even if I left him. I would always be an outcast. Once with the Dark Mark, always with the Dark Mark. They weren't going to trust me now…I looked over at Hermione, who was looking at my arm with some sort of grotesque fascination. But I could tell she felt disgusted. 

"And now," Voldemort said presently, "For the mud blood. Who will no longer be addressed as mud blood." Both my father and I turned to stare at Voldemort incredulously. Had he gone mad?

And he had.

My father gaped.

I stood there, helpless, shocked, devoid of any movement, rooted to the ground--as Hermione screamed. I stood there, wordlessly, watching as the Dark Mark seared into her innocent flesh. 

A/N: I really need feedback at this point. If you **like** it, **review.** If you **think I could work on some things, review**. If you have any **suggestions for future** chapters--and this is **something I REALLY want**--**review**. I need **reviews.**

Check out all those "reviews". Now click on that little button and submit one to me. I can't do individual thanks, sorry not much time, but I do love my reviewers. I mean it; you guys are totally awesome and you rock my socks off. 

And another quick note that I would love if you read:

I recently read two stories that don't get the attention they deserve, check them out if you are bored and in search of Draco/Hermione. Number 1: Punk Rock Depression by The Dying Duck--she's kind of…advertising me around…I guess she likes my stuff? But it's all cool, her story's really hilarious, it's kind of a parody but a GOOD parody! Number 2: Till I collapse by Compellingold. It's really great, go check it out! Thanks.


	7. Answers

The Enemy Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I'm a little sad that this story has fewer reviews than my other story Delusion (which isn't half as good in my opinion) so review this story so it can catch up! 

I gasped, in spite of my usual façade of an emotionless soul. I could barely stand the screams she emitted; I wanted to run over there and help her, wanted to beat Voldemort to a bloody pulp…the raw, stinging sensation in my own arm was only a dull background as I stood there, rooted to the spot and staring at her. I couldn't run over there. Voldemort was mad; I knew it. As her screams subsided, the heavy night air seemed to wash us all senseless, and finally she looked up, her eyes bloodshot. She did not look at me; instead, she was staring at Voldemort. The only question that remained hanging in the slight air was a simple one. Why? Why the bloody hell had he just given Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's best friend, Prefect, top student and all around light-side-supporter the Dark Mark? 

My father seemed to be wondering the same thing.

"M-m-my Lord," he sputtered. Ordinarily I would have cursed him in my head for acting so weakly in front of someone. Malfoys were not weak, I had always been taught that we never bowed down to anyone. And here my father was, kneeling at the feet of some deranged fool who wanted to take over the world.

"Lucius," Voldemort said coldly, although his eyes were on Hermione. "You will be questioning my authority at this point, I presume?"

"Oh, no, my Lord," he blubbered. "Not at all…merely wondering why you would choose to give this…mud blood the sacred Dark Mark?"

"Malfoy!" Voldemort bellowed. "Did not I say that you will _never_ address this girl as mud blood again! I suppose it's in your genes, is it?" he said furiously, his eyes glinting with evil. "You'll just have to learn the hard way. _Crucio!_ "

I averted my eyes away as I heard my father writhing on the ground, although he did not scream. We kept our emotions bottled inside--to scream and cry is a sure sign of pure weakness. And we are not weak.

I noticed Hermione had averted her eyes as well. She looked at me in horror, her pupils so dilated her eyes were a mass of black. She must be so scared, I thought wildly. Imagine receiving the Dark Mark before you have time to prepare for it.

After about a minute, Voldemort lazily flicked his wand and beckoned my father to get up. He did, shakily, and I knew he was angry but would never display it. "I am sorry, my Lord," he whispered.

"It is not to me that you will be apologizing," Voldemort said coldly. "Rather, you shall apologize to the one you insulted in the first place."

My father's eyes grew wide with horror and anticipation of the deed. I rather sympathized with the old bastard at this point--after years of being told mud bloods were beneath him, he had to apologize to one, and one that was probably a good thirty years younger than him as well. 

"Miss Granger is waiting," Voldemort said softly.

Lucius turned to Hermione and muttered a quick apology. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger," he said curtly. "It shan't happen again."

Hermione, ever so polite, squeaked, "That's quite alright," in a tiny, almost unrecognizable voice.

Voldemort chuckled softly. "Now you might be wondering why I've done this."

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I stared at him, trying to keep my jaw shut. Of course I was wondering why he'd bloody ruined my life! Giving me the Dark Mark! I trembled as I remembered the pain when it had first been blazed into my arm. It had hurt so much; the pain was almost indescribable. I had never felt anything like that--pure agony; torment like no other. Even now, the raw flesh was stinging, and I fought to keep my attention off of it. Curse the Malfoys! Curse Voldemort! How could Draco have brought me here? Given me the Dark Mark? I never wanted to talk to the devil again!

Voldemort was smiling now; a hideous thing, I felt as if I'd rather see him kill me than see him smile again. "Well, Lucius, young Master Malfoy, and Miss Granger, I do have my reasons."

We waited. Nobody even exhaled a breath; it was too noticeable and I'd quickly learned that as long as Voldemort's attention was not directed to you, you were safe.

Finally he continued. "You see, I wish to remain powerful, and I have been looking for a way to gain immortality."

I tried to hold back the smirk that was forming on my face--hell--he had been looking, and had been quite unsuccessful for that matter.

"However," and here the old devil frowned, "I may or may not be successful in this quest. As of yet, I have not found a way, and sadly, I am approaching an age where a back-up plan is needed."

We all pondered this for a while, as he paused again for suspense and dramatic effect. Very much like Snape, I observed.

"In other words, I need an heir."

"And who will you heir be, my Lord," Lucius Malfoy asked, more to himself than to Voldemort. I was sure he was thrilled--Draco would get to be heir and all would be perfect.

"My heir is right here, Lucius. Can you not figure it out?"

All eyes turned to me, even the Death Eaters in the background who had kept quiet through all of this. I noticed there were only four death eaters--I suppose only four of them had Voldemort's full trust. Enough at least, to find out who his heir would be. Everyone knew that if the heir had been Draco, Voldemort would not have acted quite so shifty throughout the ordeal. But me? Why was Voldemort going to make me his heir? Whatever had I done?

"Yes. Hermione Granger is my heir. Any guesses as to why?" Voldemort rather looked as if he was enjoying himself. To be perfectly honest, I was a little more surprised than upset that I was picked as Voldemort's heir. There was no way in hell that I would ever become his heir, but it was…almost an honor that Voldemort would pick me over any of his Death Eaters and their faithful children.

"Because," Draco said softly after a small spell of silence, "She has absolutely no binding ties to the wizarding world. She does not come from a family of light-side wizards. In fact the only connection she has with the light-side is that her best friends are both from it. She can easily severe these ties. She would make the perfect heir," he said breathlessly. "In fact, she is probably one of the smartest witches around…"

"The smartest witch, Master Malfoy," Voldemort said, looking pleased. "I made sure that she was. Anyhow, your answer was quite precise. She is incredibly talented and her talent will extend quite easily to the Dark Side. She has no bonds with the light side."

"I won't!" I cried out, before I could stop myself. This was so much more serious than I had ever imagined it could be. "Never will I give up my friendships, my morals, my values…to become the heir of Lord Voldemort!" I spat it out and tried to hold my tears back.

  
"You see, gentlemen," Voldemort said, glancing around at his death eaters, "She has the decency to call me Lord. The first step to acceptance." 

I opened and closed my mouth furiously, but had the sense not to speak. After all, if Voldemort could perform the Cruciatus curse upon one of his most loyal followers, he wouldn't hesitate to perform it on me. But then again, I was his heir. 

"My Lord," one of the death eaters spoke. "I fail to see why you would pick this…mu--young lady as your heir. I mean, what is your connection to her…and she is friends with Potter, is she not…she will betray us…"

Damn right I will, I thought violently. I hated all these death eaters--I wanted nothing more than to go back to Hogwarts and not have a symbol of evil on my arm.

"Avery," Voldemort said. "The points you bring up are all quite true. I do not have a connection with her, but do you expect me to croak anytime soon?"

"No, my Lord."

"Well, then, I shall make a connection with her. And what was your other point?"

"Er…her best friend is Potter."

"Oh yes. Which makes her so much more crucial to us, doesn't it?" He walked around, knowing he'd confused all the death eaters, Draco, and me very much. And the worst part was that the old bastard enjoyed it. It was his sick and twisted idea of fun, messing with people's lives.

Nobody spoke; everyone was too afraid in case they ignited his wrath. "What? Nobody attempts to solve the puzzle?" He asked, as if he was questioning someone's weekend plans. 

Still, not a word. I could almost hear Harry and Ron in my head--perhaps they were wondering where I was. Then again, maybe not. It had been late when I sneaked out, so late that everyone would think I was asleep. The same went for Draco. 

"All of you!" Voldemort finally burst out. "Do you not understand? If Harry Potter's best friend becomes the heir of the Dark Lord…what will people say about the Boy Who Lived? They'll say it was fluke, it was not meant to be…"

A nervous chatter followed his little remark, and I wanted to throw him into a vat of boiling water. It was so right, so true…I hated him! He could not control me; if I was heir I would abolish the Dark side…and then Voldemort spoke, and any hope vanished from my soul. 

"Has anybody ever heard of the Firehorn potion?" Voldemort questioned.

It was as if alarm bells were going off in my head. I distinctly remembered making that potion with Draco, but the pressure I was under right now kept me from remembering what it did…I searched my brains, which had never ceased to fail me, cursing them at the same time. Why couldn't I remember? What was it? For the first time, I felt utterly and completely helpless. I could not remember. I had always prided myself on a superb memory, and here I could not remember what a potion that I had spent four months on set out to do.

Voldemort began to explain what exactly that damn potion did. My eyes grew wide as I heard him speak, and Snape's words rang in my head. "The Firehorn potion, for all you idiots that failed your potions class," he said, looking directly at the death eater called Avery, "will allow me to control Miss Granger. I can listen to all her thoughts, and change them to suit my wishes. I can make her embarrass herself in front of an entire class, can change her looks, I can make her commit murder if I bloody well please."

Avery's eyes grew wide. "Will you have her kill Potter?"

Voldemort scowled. "No, you bloody idiot, that will send her straight to Azkaban. This is my heir! She will not have Potter's soiled blood on her hands. He is my kill, and I will kill him before I pass on my legacy."

Lucius spoke up. "My Lord…you cannot administer the potion forever, what will happen when…"

"When I die, you mean?" Voldemort's eyes glittered angrily. I suppose the thought of death for him was the ultimate fear. "Obviously you have not done in-depth research on the Firehorn potion. Whatever I make her do, even when I stop inhabiting her thoughts, it will linger with her! It will effect her always. And when she gets the taste of everything, she'll never want to leave it. It's perfect."

I listened to the last line of his speech, completely confused. Whatever it was, I would not follow his will. 

The whole ordeal was so surprising and unexpected.

What would become of me?

"And Lucius," Voldemort added. "You'll probably wonder why I didn't tell you all this right off. If I had, would you have agreed to make your son bring her to me?"

I hated him. _And when she gets the taste of everything, she'll never want to leave it._ Oh, Voldemort, I thought angrily. It's evident you do not know Hermione Granger.

A/N: Yep, this chapter is called 'Answers' because it is full of answers! A little on the short side, I know, but I don't want to keep going or otherwise it will end up way too long. Tell me what you think of this plot idea--where it goes from here and stuff like that. And as always, please, please review. I really appreciate them, believe me, they really help get rid of writer's block! By the way, that last sentence is very important "And when she…never want to leave it". That's why I made her comment on it; it's vital in later chapters. Ciao!


	8. Going Back

The Enemy Chapter 8

A/N: Don't ask me why I updated so quickly…I just had an urge to write! So here you go!

It was all so unbelievable. How could Voldemort have made me work so hard to bring Hermione here, only to tell her that she was now on the dark side and heir to his throne? I hated Voldemort; he was quite the bastard, but at the same time I was feeling…well, insanely jealous. Hermione had never worked her arse off for the Dark Side. Then again, neither had I, but…I had connection to it. My father was rooted so deeply into this side that you couldn't pull him out if a Mandrake was about to scream.

I overcame my jealousy pretty quickly, however, when I glanced at Hermione's face. It was a mixture of disgust and surprise, and I instantly felt horrible for being jealous. She hadn't done anything to deserve being heir, but being heir was definitely not a good thing. And now, to worsen things…they were going to give her the Firehorn potion.

"Have you got the potion ready, Pettigrew?" Voldemort snapped. A small, rat-like figure emerged from the shadows. Hermione gasped at the same time that I shrugged. I had not noticed him before—he had not been with the rest of the Death Eaters. In his shaking hand he was holding a vial of red substance that glared at me with all its familiarity. Ah, the Firehorn potion. Hermione and I had slaved over that thing and here it was back to haunt us. 

"Yes, my Lord."

"Well, hand it here then. Must you always take forever?" Voldemort's grumpy mood came as a bit of a shock, considering that just a few minutes ago he'd been laughing with glee as he informed us of his diabolical plans.

"I am sorry, my Lord."

As soon as Voldemort grabbed the vial from the small man's hands, he bellowed out, "Crucio!" I turned away, feeling a little sick. The man screamed in pain, his howls haunting my ears. I wanted it to stop, Voldemort please stop, no more, stop, the man didn't do anything…a few minutes later, Voldemort flicked his wand and the man lay on the ground, panting, breathing heavily.

He got up and looked at Voldemort in fear. "My Lord…what for…" he whispered, biting his lip. I suppose he hadn't really meant to say that—it had just slipped out of his mouth. 

"For being ratty," Voldemort said with a twisted grin. I stood there, a little surprised. Around me the death eaters guffawed, and even Hermione had a grin playing at her lips. Annoyed, I sat down on a rock close to me. What was this joke that everyone understood but me? Hell, even Hermione got it and she wasn't even part of the dark circle…until now, that was.

Voldemort uncorked the vial of potion and smelled it. "Perfect," he murmured. "I shall have to thank Severus…"

Hermione and I stiffened. The bitter irony infusing into our veins! The very potion that we had slaved over…that same potion was now going to be administered to its maker, to ruin her life forever and deeply…this could not be happening. And Snape, Snape was supposed to be good, he wasn't on the dark side anymore…or was he? A million thoughts swam through my head, I almost didn't want to know the answer. Snape then, was not an ally to the light, he was an enemy, the enemy…

"Oh, children, don't worry," Voldemort said with a small smile. "Severus does not know that he has supplied this potion—I shall simply have to thank Pettigrew…when he recovers, that is."

I distinctly heard Hermione mutter, "Blasted rat," under her breath. Once again, I was in the dark. I hated that stupid Pettigrew, confusing me like that, making me appear a brainless git in front of Hermione…I stopped my train of thought rather quickly. I now knew I fancied her, yes…it wasn't anything more though, I was sure, just a schoolboy infatuation…

"Why is he a blasted rat?" I asked.

"Animagus," she whispered back to me. I almost slapped my head, I was so angry at myself for not understanding this sooner. Now I really looked like a bloody idiot. Of course, he transformed into a rat…no wonder all those lame rat jokes! And here he had gone and taken some of Snape's…no, Hermione and me…some of our potion, just to give it to Hermione! 

Voldemort advanced towards Hermione, and I felt her stiffen beside me. My heart almost jumped from its cage as Voldemort moved closer, his smile—hideous sight that was—radiating pure evil.

He touched Hermione's neck, and she nearly cried out; I could see she stopped herself just in time. I imagined his hands must be so cold, numbly cold. Without any further ado, Voldemort tipped the vial so the liquid poured down her throat, and she swallowed, a slightly nauseous expression on her face.

Behind us, all the Death Eaters were watching quite nervously. 

"My Lord," my father almost whispered, "How long will it take for the potion to have any effect?"

"A day or two," Voldemort said casually. 

I wanted to ask him when we would be allowed to return to Hogwarts but was a little scared to say so. Voldemort never hesitated to use the Cruciatus curse.

Ironically my father had the same thought. "When shall we let the children return?" he asked.

"I would think that now is a good time," Voldemort said. "What time is it?"

"It is half-past midnight," Avery said from the shadows. Half-past midnight? Was that all? It had only been two-and-a-half bloody hours since we'd been here, and it felt quite like days

"Where's the portkey?" Voldemort asked impatiently.

My father pulled that damned necklace out of his pocket. I remembered now that he had taken it from me when we had first arrived. "Here it is," he said.

"No, we're not going to use that one right now…it will jolt memories that I do not want remembered," Voldemort said. I sighed. The old bastard was a lunatic.

Pettigrew, who by this time had stopped writhing on the ground, spoke rather shakily. "I have it, my Lord…"

"Don't announce the fact," Voldemort snapped. "Just give it to me."

The Portkey turned out to be a figurine of the dark mark. I didn't know such novelty gifts were available. 

As Voldemort held out the figurine to us and we both snaked our arms, now stinging with the dark mark, across to reach it, he abruptly pulled away.

"I almost forgot," he added breathlessly. "Just to make sure you don't tell your buddies," he said, turning to Hermione, I've got this for you…he pointed his wand at Hermione and muttered, "_Memorium Partialiem". _ I sighed. I knew that charm quite well, how often had my father used it upon me?

The Binding Spell, I called it. Quite figuratively, actually. 

With that, Voldemort gestured for us to grab the Port Key and we did, spiraling ourselves back to Hogwarts.

As soon as our feet touched the ground under the tree, Hermione spoke to me. "Look, you bastard, it's not like I want to talk to you but do you have any idea what that spell was, _Memorium Partialiem_?"

I was taken aback. Had she just called me a _bastard_, in a not-playful voice? Hurt, I spoke up. "Bastard? Why?" Well, aside from the fact that I'd basically gotten her the dark mark as a gift. Oh, and the heir of Voldemort himself.

"Because of all this…" she trailed off, and I noticed tears welling in her eyes. Before I could do anything, her head was against my chest and she was slowly rocking. Awkwardly, I pulled her closer, reminding myself that hundreds of girls came to me with their problems. But this was Hermione…and I hated to admit it, but she was quite different, apart from the fact that she had the dark mark and was Voldemort's heir. 

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "I really am."

"It's okay," she said, between sobs. "He would have gotten me anyhow, you didn't know…"

I cringed, knowing that what I _had_ expected to happen was a whole lot worse.

She pulled away rather abruptly then, leaving me with a little feeling of shock. "So, what was _memorium partialiem_?"

"Leave it to Granger to stop in the midst of an emotional breakdown in thirst for knowledge."

She smiled through her tears and wiped them away. "Just answer the question, Draco."

I smiled. It was a nice feeling to hear my name rolling off her tongue. "Well…it's not the best of spells."

She nodded, anticipating the worst.

"My dad's used it loads of times on me, don't worry, it's not really dangerous. It requires a lot of power to perform it, and Voldemort is the epitome of power…so I guess it works. Anyhow, you won't be able to tell people about what happened just now unless Voldemort hasn't blocked them out with the spell."

"So…basically he chooses who I tell it to and who I don't tell it to."

"Right."

"So I won't be able to tell Harry or Ron."

"Or anyone else in Gryffindor, I'm sure."

"What would happen if I tried?"

"Well," I said, remembering. "One time my father almost beat me because I had done something wrong. He put the spell on me so I could not tell my mother. I tried to tell her and ended up gagging and having a choking fit. Not really pleasant," I said casually.

"Your father _beats_ you?"

I was rather surprised at the concern in her voice. My father did not beat me, he threatened me, and I always considered it normal. We were a tough family. "No, no," I told her. "He's very strict, however."

She nodded. "I never really understood your situation," she said softly.

I smiled grimly. "But now, yours is so much worse."

A/N: Well? What did you think? PLEASE REVIEW.


	9. Changed

The Enemy Chapter 9 

I entered my dormitory, trying not to make any noise as I slipped back under the unmade covers. I shuddered as I thought about how different my life had been a mere three hours ago.

Three hours ago, I had not been Lord Voldemort's heir. I had only thought about sneaking out to meet…well, Draco. Either way I looked at it, I was not the Hermione Granger I had once been. I was someone or something completely different.

I was too tired to think anymore. The minute my head hit the soft pillow I fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

I awoke with a slight headache. "Are you okay?" Parvati asked me.

"I'm fine," I muttered. She looked taken aback. After all, the Hermione they knew…the Hermione of yesterday, the Hermione whose only claim to fame was as Harry Potter's close friend, the Hermione who studied her arse off for good grades and a good, respectable job…was not rude. 

"Sorry," I continued, a little sheepishly. 

"It's okay," she said quickly. "You've gotten up rather late though. Breakfast is in ten minutes."

Hurriedly I dressed and ran down to the Great Hall. Harry and Ron were heatedly discussing…

"Hermione!" Ron said, looking up as I approached the table.

"Blimey," Harry said, scowling. "How long does it take to get down here? We were going to ask you about the potions essay."

My heartbeat doubled. "Potions essay?" I whispered.

"Yeah, well we couldn't remember if it was on the side effects of a Wolfbane potion or the discovery of Wolfbane. Ron did his on side effects and I did mine on the discovery. Which one is it?"

I sat down, almost too weak to stand. It seemed as if ocean waves were roaring in my ears—a potions essay? How could I have forgotten? _How could I have forgotten? _

"I didn't do it," I said listlessly.

Ron laughed. "Stop joking," he snorted. "You could never not do your homework. Anyway, one of us is going to fail the assignment. Is it Harry or me?"

"I forgot we had an essay," I moaned. "Shit. Blasted little hei—"

All at once I choked on the roll of bread I had been chewing. I felt my face go red as I coughed and coughed, until I could no longer even sit; I was so weak that I felt my body slide onto the floor…and then all went black.

I woke up to someone fanning me. "Hermione?" a familiar voice whispered. My brain registered raven colored hair and glasses…

"Harry?" I whispered.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You had a coughing fit or something and then you fainted."

My memory came flooding back to me. So that was what would happen if I ever tried to tell anybody. Fabulous. Good one, Voldemort, I thought angrily.

"I'm okay," I told him, scrambling off the floor. Almost everyone in the Great Hall was staring at me. I shifted my gaze over to the Slytherin table, and one very handsome looking Slytherin was staring at me with a gaze so intense I didn't even want to look back.

He was the only person in this entire bloody hall who knew what was going on.

The rest of the day passed in a blur; the only thing memorable about it was Snape deducting twenty points from Gryffindor because _I_ didn't do my homework. I smiled at him. "Glad I could make your day, Professor," I said. After all, it wasn't every day that you could see Hermione Granger losing points on account of not doing her homework.

Afterwards, I went wearily to the library to finish off my homework, making sure that I did every single thing and extra, like I was accustomed to doing. However, my homework completion was hindered by a certain Draco Malfoy.

"Hey," he said, sitting down at the table.

"Hi," I said, without bothering to look up as I finished my Arithmancy. I did not notice that his mere presence kept me from concentrating; I was suddenly doodling instead of completing problems.

"Hermione, look at me." 

I could not disobey that voice. I looked up at him, his silver eyes nearly glowing in the dim light of the library, and felt my heart beat a little bit faster.

Why did he always do that to me? Nobody had done that to me—I did not waste my time over boys!

"Yeah," I whispered.

"Listen. We need to talk. You understand that, don't you?"

"What do we need to talk about?" I snapped. Beautiful until he started speaking, I thought. Although it wasn't quite as bad anymore.

"Everything. I mean, it isn't everyday that someone is declared heir of Voldemort."

"Blasted man."

"I've been saying that for the last three years. Anyhow, what are you going to do about it?"

I was surprised. "Nothing, I guess."

"Nothing? Granger, what do you mean nothing?"

"Well, what can I do? I suppose I'll use it to my advantage. As soon as that old crackpot dies, the dark side will cease to exist."

"He isn't going to die for awhile," Draco said angrily. "You can't just sit there! You've got to take action!"

"Well then I'll help Harry."

"Honestly Hermione," Draco said, and I could tell he was fighting off a temper tantrum, "You are a smart witch. Does it take you this long to figure something out?"

"Figure _what_ out?" I replied, getting a little irritated.

"Firehorn potion! It's going to start working on you any minute now and you're in the library and you're not even looking for ways to keep him from prying in your thoughts!" Draco exhaled the entire sentence in one breath. 

I stared at him. He had a very good point. "Er…yeah."

"Get started!" he barked at me, and then handed me a pass to the restricted section. 

"Where did you get this?" I asked.

He flashed me a small smile. "Snape," he said casually. "I do extra research every now and then. But not always what he thinks I'm doing."

"You are so bad."

"Did you just figure that out?" he said, smirking. "Anyway, get started."

"Are you going to help me?"

He stood there surprised, and I was a little astonished to see a flicker of concern on his face. "Okay," he replied, and pulled another pass out of his pocket.

"How many do you have?" I asked, surprised.

"Loads. You just have to figure out how to change the date. All it takes are a few spells you can pick up in the restricted section itself," he said, snickering.

After showing a very disapproving Madam Pince our passes, we walked into the restricted section.

"Where to begin?" Draco said under his breath, almost as if he was talking to himself.

Suddenly my forehead felt extraordinarily clammy.

A cold voice began to seep into my body, into my brain, and the words began to melt into my memory…

"Hermione," I heard the cold voice whisper. "Heiress of the Dark Lord…"

I dropped the book I was holding, and knelt to the ground, clutching my forehead in shock and fear.

A/N: Ok, hopefully everyone understood that Hermione was testing her limits when she fainted in the Great Hall thanks to Voldemort's curse. She is headstrong in my opinion; I always thought she would defy Voldemort and see for herself, being naturally curious. 

Sorry guys, about the little cliffy! First off, I want to thank all my reviewers. This has been a depressing stage for me in my life, and I've battled a lot of sickness and depression. Reviews literally make my day. Although I haven't gotten that many, I value all my reviewers so much. Thank you. On another note, I'd really like some more reviews…my goal is maybe 85? Please? Hehe, anyway, expect an update in about 2 weeks…sorry…I'm going to be a little busy! 


	10. Who's in Control

The Enemy Chapter 10 (at last!)

I gasped as I watched Hermione tumble to the ground, clutching her forehead. I knew exactly what had happened—we were too late. "Hermione," I whispered as I edged closer to her, slightly terrified. 

"Back off," she muttered. "I can't think…"

Taken aback, I stepped backwards and watched her, her facial expressions varying from disgust to shock to pain…I felt extremely sorry for her. What a burden, being Voldemort's heir and all that…it was enough to get you committed into St. Mungo's for sure. 

"Draco," she whispered. "Can you help me up?" 

Stunned, because just a minute ago, she'd told me to back off, I moved towards her and helped her up. She smiled and brushed a few pieces of library floor dust off her robe. "Are you okay?" I asked incredulously. She had just been writhing in sheer agony and all that and now she was walking around as if having the Dark Lord in your head was perfectly normal! 

"Oh, I'm fine," she said seriously, giving me a flash of her teeth. "I don't know, he seems to be gone now, I can't hear him or anything."

A wave of relief flooded through me, but I knew that if anything, relief was what I should not be feeling. If she couldn't _hear_ the blasted man, then he'd probably found a way to do it without having her know, or something. Or maybe he had really left her head, and was planning something even more drastic. "Okay, good," I said suddenly. "Well, do you want to continue researching for a way to block it?"

To my surprise, she shook her head. "No…" she said, her eyes getting a faraway look, "No, I think actually that Harry's got the perfect book…it's bound to be in there."

This time my smile was a lot more genuine—if she was thinking research and books, then she was all right. "Okay. Hey, it's almost dinner…I'm going to go and eat," I told her seriously.

She laughed, sending something related to shivers down my spine. "Boys!" she said playfully. "Okay, go ahead, I'm going to finish my homework."

Now I was sure she was back to normal. Instead of my usual smirk, I gave her a small smile as I walked down towards the smell of something delicious.

-------------------------------------------------------

I watched Draco as he left the library, his silvery blonde hair falling gently into his eyes. Involuntarily, my heart fluttered slightly, and somewhere deep inside my head I heard a cold, mirthless laugh.

"You want him, don't you," it hissed and I shuddered.

"No," I thought fiercely. "I hate him."

"That's not true, Hermione, heiress of the Dark Lord…I can read your thoughts, feel your emotions…you are almost in love with the poor boy…"

I bit my lip in frustration. He needed to get out—he had to get out, and the worst part was that he could make me do something and then block my memory, so that I wouldn't have any recollection of what I had just done. Like just now for example, I had been talking to Draco—and my mind completely blanked. I could not remember anything I had told him. My eyes narrowed dangerously as I asked Voldemort the silent question inside my head. "What did you tell Draco?"

"So it's Draco now…not Malfoy?" the voice asked tauntingly. "I did not tell him anything, Hermione…you controlled that conversation."

My mind began to spin, waves of utter confusion and misery washing over me. "I did?" I asked myself faintly. His words were weaving a web of wonderment upon me; I couldn't remember anything, what conversations I controlled, what conversations that he took power over…the only person that could help me was Draco, he was the only person I was allowed to talk to about it…

"No," the voice said, answering my thoughts. "You really can't tell Draco everything. You're just going to have to bear with me."

I sighed audibly, staring down at the parchment of homework that I hadn't touched for the last ten minutes. All my memories of the last two days were so haunting, and I was so tired…

I could barely think by the time my head hit the parchment, and I fell into a dreamy slumber.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I shook her awake, surprised to still find her there three hours after I'd left for dinner. Apparently, I thought to myself, she'd overdone it with the homework. 

"Hermione," I whispered. "Get up!"

Finally she awoke, her eyes still full of sleep as she looked blankly up at me. For a second, I was struck with how beautiful she was. I had finally admitted it to myself, then, the fact that I found her beautiful. And conventionally, she wasn't beautiful. She was normal, decent, fairly pretty…but to me, she was gorgeous.

I couldn't help it as I pulled her into a kiss, a sweet kiss, a short kiss. I did not want to give her a passionate kiss when Voldemort was residing in her head. It was unnerving, really, and akin to kissing the Dark Lord…we pulled apart rather quickly, and I felt that maybe her thoughts were in the same direction as mine.

"What was that for?" she asked softly.

I smiled. "I don't know. What's wrong with a kiss every now and then?"

She laughed. "Nothing. I was just surprised."

I changed the topic, not wanting her to think that I'd gone soft or anything. "Well," I asked, in the usual, hardened voice of Draco Malfoy, "How's it going with him up in your head?"

She sighed. "He's ther—I mean, sometimes he's there, but only for a second or two. It seems like he isn't there all the time, like he goes away and then comes back but it's a very short period of time."

A little confused, I asked what she was about to say before she'd gone off on the little tangent. "Why'd you say he's there at first?" I asked, a little suspicious.

She smiled wanly. "Did I?" she asked. "I've just been so tired lately, I always use the wrong words. Anyway, he doesn't seem to be in my head right now."

I nodded crisply. "I realize," I told her softly. We both looked at each other, a little bit confused, a little bit excited, a little bit worried about the future.

"You'll beat him," I told her confidently.

All at once, her smiling expression changed to something hard and almost criminal-like. In spite of myself, I retreated backwards immediately.

"What did you say?" she asked softly.

"Er…that you'll…succumb to his powers," I said quickly, suddenly realizing that I had just confessed to Voldemort my lack of support for him.

"No, you didn't," she, or rather he, retorted.

Before I knew it, she was advancing upon me; I could feel her ragged breath against my neck. "Malfoy," she whispered malevolently, "You'd better watch it. You do realize I'm the heiress of the Dark Lord. And I can kill the whole bloody school if I want to."

A/N: Terribly sorry about the long wait! Well, I felt iffy about this chapter. Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed, esp. Compellingold for reviewing constantly! Reviews for this chapter are most welcome. Hehe!


	11. Molding of Thoughts

The Enemy Chapter 11

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I was going to update this on the 21st but I got really sick, and then I had loads of family for Christmas and all that…anyway, here's the chapter. Exams were okay…good in English and Creative Writing, heh. 

I backed away slowly, trying to distance her away from me. Her eyes—it was in her eyes. The brown was gone…replaced by the cold unfeeling black of the Dark Lord's eyes. "Hermione," I whispered, trying to get her out of the trance. It couldn't be her; she was Potter's best friend, strong supporter of the Light…no, I knew it was Voldemort behind this.

She blinked, twice, and suddenly the black was gone and the brown was back. "Draco," she said, looking confused. 

"Yes?" I whispered. 

"Was he in there? In my head? I can't remember."

I shuddered involuntarily, and for some reason, shook my head. She was already worried enough as it was; it would make it so much worse if I told her the truth, wouldn't it? "No," I said reassuringly, moving closer to her once again until I'd enveloped her in a hug, "he wasn't. Let's keep looking for a way out."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walked up to my room, feeling shaky and tired, confused and cold, and most of all, just this horrid feeling of uncertainty that I couldn't seem to shake off. Symbols seemed to carve themselves across my mind and I kept getting messages from the Dark Lord, but it was so confusing…I couldn't tell if the feeling was really my own or if it was a feeling put there by Voldemort. 

"Hermione!" someone called my name from behind me and I turned, walking down the stairs and back into the common room. "Hermione!" the voice sounded again, and I was beginning to develop a pounding headache—the very voice was distressing, and I just wanted to put myself out of the misery.

My vision faded in and out of focus as my eyes scanned the common room, in hopes of finding the culprit that dared disturb the peace that I'd finally achieved. All at once, a white-hot anger consumed me and my eyes were burning intensely. I wanted to scream and my blood began to rush to my head, making the pounding even worse, the headache simply screaming with anger… 

"Hermione!" I'd found the voice; it belonged to a sixth year that had annoyed Harry many times, a Colin Creevey with an odd fascination for the camera. 

I didn't know how I did it but suddenly his body seemed to turn green in my vision. I wanted to hurt him, wanted to take my bare hands and snake my slender fingers across his neck and choke him until he couldn't breathe, until he stopped saying my name, wanted to rid the world of yet another blasted mud blood, wanted to…

Mud blood?

I shook my head, thoroughly befuddled. Obviously Voldemort was somewhere in here, and he was molding my thoughts and his thoughts as one. But if I was his heiress, a Muggleborn witch myself, then why did he still hate mud bloods? I turned, deciding to ignore Colin. I was worried for his safety. What if in a moment of fury and dismal distress I did something _bad_, what if Voldemort could instruct me to kill the whole school, what if I hurt someone, what about…Harry! Oh, no, I had to keep my distance from him, there was no way I could go near him…if Voldemort could make me think of Colin as an insufferable mud blood who did not deserve to live, then what about Harry Potter?

With a moan I raced up to my bedroom. I had to record these thoughts. This potion was much more powerful than I had thought. I needed to read up on it, needed to know every little bit the potion could do to me…I needed to prevent it. 

I walked into my room and suddenly a wave of cold washed over me. I shuddered and made my way over to my bed, peeling off the down comforter and putting it around my shoulders. All this was to no avail. The cold, if anything increased and I closed my eyes, willing it to go away.

__

It will never go away.

I jumped and my body tingled with surprise and…well…the weird-factor of the whole thing. My eyes flew open and I wrapped the blanket tighter around me, but…oh, man. It would never go away. The voice had just formed inside my head…was I going crazy?

__

No. You are not going crazy. I am here to show you the ropes of being an Heiress to the Dark Lord.

I nearly slapped myself with realization. Of course. Of all the bloody things, it was old Voldemort himself who resided inside my head, bent on changing my opinions and molding me into his stupid minion. Well, it's not going to happen, I thought angrily, tears forming in my eyes. 

__

Accept your fate. You are lucky, my darling muggle born child…I could have simply performed the Killing Curse on you like all the other mud bloods out there, those who do not deserve entry into the wizard world. Yet if I die, you will carry on in my place.

The tears fell now. I was so angry, so sad, and so vulnerable. I wanted to believe him, wanted it all to be okay, wanted it to end. What had I done to deserve this god-awful fate? To end up as the heiress to an evil, lifeless…

__

Do you really want to finish that sentence?

Yes! I thought, the word lingering on my tongue. And then suddenly my tongue was on fire, the flames licking hungrily at the wet, pale pink flesh. I screamed out, shutting my eyes and trying to forget everything.

I kept screaming, wishing that the pain would stop.

My tongue kept burning, letting out an incandescent glow about my mouth. 

I wanted to melt into the ground, anything to stop it, someone, please help me…

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day dawned bright and clear, and along with my two "friends" Crabbe and Goyle I walked down to breakfast. Oddly, I was in a cheerful mood--something that hadn't struck me in many months. And lately, I'd been bogged down with too much information to ever be happy. I had been thinking about Lucius last night. I had realized, quite shockingly, that apart from the fact that he was a very active death eater, I didn't know broomsticks about him. We reached the breakfast table and I ate rapidly, consumed in thoughts about my father's life before I was born, before he was married. I was confident that he loved Narcissa very much--in fact, she seemed to be the only thing he cared for at times. 

Double potions with the Gryffindors was my first class. We walked into the dungeons confidently and Snape shot us a rare twist of the lips that probably classified as a smile, but wasn't really very pleasant to look at. I found my seat and sat down, and Crabbe and Goyle flanked around me, looking for chairs nearby. I mused that had it been even last year, I would have sought out Potter and co. and teased them all mercilessly about the same things that I'd teased them about for six years. I still hated them, with the exception of Hermione, but I liked to think of myself as maturing slightly. Slightly.

I turned around to give Hermione a secret wave or something and to my surprise and worry, none of the three were present. I waited. Maybe they were late. In fact it had been quite often that Potter and Weasley slid into class late, only to have an enormous amount of points deducted from them, courtesy of Snape. 

They didn't show up. I hated to admit it, but I was worried about Hermione. More than worried. Anxious. And to my surprise and disgust, nobody seemed that concerned about them. Perhaps they all knew what had happened? 

I needed to approach some Gryffindors. I scanned the room, where everyone was busy picking partners for Potions…there was one that I didn't really know. She wouldn't hate me immediately. I racked my brain, trying to remember her name and finally came up with a Parvati Patil.

"Patil," I called out, hoping that she didn't already have a partner. 

She swung around, the long black hair swishing noisily behind her. "Malfoy?" she asked, rather disdainfully.

But nevertheless, she did agree to work with me, by some miracle, and as she was dicing mandrake root and I was gathering some gillywater leaves, I casually dropped the question. "So, where are Potter, Weasley, and Granger?"

She looked at me with surprise. "You haven't heard?"

A cold dread filled me but I shook my head, pretending to be interested only for the sake of a good gossip. "No, I haven't."

Patil was in her element. Her eyes shone with excitement although she seemed a bit sad about the whole thing. "Well, a terrible thing happened to Hermione Granger last night."

It was as if my worst fear had come true. I struggled to keep a neutral face but it was difficult, even for me. Hermione. Her name was like an ocean wave in my ear, a constant, dull roar that I could not escape. I hadn't even realized I cared for her so much. So goddamn much. 

"Well, what happened?" I asked, looking down just in case my look could be interpreted as anything but nonchalant.

"Oh…it was _awful_," she began as she slid the mandrake roots into the cauldron. I bit on my lip to keep my temper at bay but I was seriously getting very pissed off. How long did it take to tell me what had happened to Hermione? 

Before I could pull out the wand and do some serious damage to the pretty black hair she began speaking again. "Around eleven or something like that, Lavender and I heard some screams coming from our dormitory. We raced up and we saw Hermione like, writhing on the floor. It was absolutely terrible. We yelled and dragged her down the stairs and then rushed to find Harry and Ron--you know, her best friends."

Of course I knew. What did she think I was, a transfer student from Albania who hadn't been at the school long enough to know that Crabbe and Goyle possessed three strands of brain tissue between the both of them? 

"And so what happened to Hermione?" I asked as I stirred the cauldron, hoping that she would just think that my sudden interest was because of new torture material or something like that. Luckily, she didn't really seem to care why I was interested. Maybe she was too caught up in the story.

"Well, we couldn't find them anywhere so we just took her to the hospital wing. We were on our way there when we bumped into Harry. He was all panicky about it and the three of us finally got her there. Madam Pomfrey was like, wow, what happened, and we were like, well, she was screaming really badly, you know? But we didn't know why."

I waited, on the ends of my nerves, for her to continue. Gods. How long did it take to tell me a simple although probably gruesome story?

"Well, Madam Pomfrey checked her out all over and apparently, her mouth was scorched. It was the craziest thing. She was mumbling something, but then she began choking and Madam Pomfrey was like, yeah, don't talk anymore. And she shooed us all out. But then this morning, she requested Harry and Ron to come down at have a chat with her because apparently she wanted to talk." 

"Well, what did she want to talk about?" I asked nervously, knowing full well that Voldemort was behind all of this. And the choking--she had probably forgotten that if she tried to tell anyone the truth, something would happen that would prevent it. 

"I'm not sure. But we think it was something to do with the burning."

No bloody way, I thought sarcastically. Of course it was something to do with the burning. What else would it be? Besides homework, that is. The girl placed that ahead of almost everything, really.

The rest of Potions went by excruciatingly slow, for me at least. When it was finally over I nearly upset the cauldrons in my haste to leave and make it down to the hospital wing in time. As I entered I hoped that Potter and Weasley had already left. That would be something fun to explain. Why I cared about what happened to the 'long molared mud blood beaver' or so I had thought of her until recently. 

Luckily for me, the hospital wing was nearly empty and the only occupant of the white beds was Hermione herself. I looked down at her, my heart beating rather erratically. She seemed okay. She was asleep but she looked anything but peaceful.

"Hermione," I whispered, wanting to prod her awake but worried that something bad would happen.

By some miracle, she awoke. "Hey," she said softly when she saw me.

"What happened?"

She sighed and nestled her head closer to the pillow. "Too much. I don't know, really."

"Well, try to explain it. We have to…you know."

"It doesn't matter, Draco. He already knows you aren't positive about getting into his circle and all that. Anyway, there are moments where I'm me--and then there are times when I'm _him_. I think like him. I'm mean like him. I could…kill someone," she said slowly, raising a hand to wipe away her tears.

For some odd reason, my hand beat hers to it. "Shhh. Just try to sleep right now. We'll figure it out."

"Last night," she said, if possible, in an even softer whisper, "last night, I could hear him inside my head. It was like having a conversation mentally. I said something--I can't even remember what, my memory is full of blank spots where I can't remember what I did or what I said or anything--and he got mad. He burnt my tongue and I was screaming but that's not even the worst of it, Draco…there were images, inside my head. And I could see what he had done to loads of people, the pain, agony, torture, and finally the death…" she stopped to take a large breath.

"I know. It's terrible what he's done," I sighed and look down. The situation was not something that would happen everyday. I was finding myself more and more ensnared in the world of Voldemort. 

"No. That's not the worst of it…so I saw all these pictures, and I _laughed_ inside my head. I liked it! I wanted to do stuff like that!"

We both were silent for a minute. "_You_ didn't want to," I finally said. "He wanted you to. He controlled your thoughts."

"I know he did. But no one else does. My thoughts and actions are indistinguishable from his. The blame all goes to me."

The sentence was chilling.

The sentence was so true.

A/N: Thanks to all reviewers. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me so far. Well, I'm wrapping this up, slowly but surely--for those who haven't read my bio, probably four chapters or so left. This chapter was longer than the last three or so, so I hope you enjoyed it. Please review.


	12. Brutality Strikes

The Enemy Chapter 12

Potter was gone.

It had been two days and Hermione was leaving the hospital wing. She did seem a lot better and she told me that Voldemort had left her. I had been about to say something, when she had sprinted off, quite insanely, leaving me confused and bewildered, but I accepted it. This was Hermione after all, and she was known to suddenly get this excellent idea and depart to her sanctuary—the library.

But she had been headed to the Gryffindor boys' dorms, instead. The odd part? It was 5 in the morning (Hermione was apparently an early bird and claimed she had problems sleeping in the hospital wing so Madam Pomfrey let her go; I was by her bed because I was…worried, hard to believe). Before I could even comprehend that she'd run off to the boys dorms she came back, eyes wide and hair possibly more frazzled than usual.

She looked like she was about to faint. She wasn't up to this running around the castle, and I was about to protest when she spoke two very determined words.

"He's gone."

"Who's gone?" I'd asked, confused as hell.

"Harry," she said bluntly, cutting right to the point. Tears were forming in her eyes and I didn't understand—maybe he took early morning strolls for the peace and quiet. I had done that at one point.

She obviously understood that I had no clue what was going on because she screamed the next few words. "Voldemort hasn't been in my head! Harry's gone! Make the connection, Draco!"

And I made it. My blood ran cold and I wasn't even friends with Potter—I didn't give a shit if he died, did I? 

I did. He was Hermione's friend and I knew that if Potter died, a part of Hermione would die as well. And not to mention the tiny detail that Potter was fighting Voldemort…and if Voldemort lived…then life would be hell for everyone. And not to mention that tiny detail if he didn't, Hermione would somehow become heir. I didn't quite understand but right now wasn't even the time to grasp the magnitude of the situation. 

"I'm going," she said determinedly, and I suddenly noticed heavy bags under her eyes. 

"You can't!" I said, conjuring up as much authority as I could at 5:12 in the morning.

"I am. You can't stop me. I'll kill you if you try," she said, dangerous glint in her eye. Slowly, I backed away, worried if Voldemort was back…but no, he couldn't be, if he was busy dueling with Potter…this was of her own accord. What had Voldemort said? Something about…the effects of the potion staying there after he'd left her mind…so he was _changing her personality_. I gasped.

"I won't try," I said softly. She _had_ to go. She shouldn't, but she had to. Potter needed all the fucking help he could get and she was the perfect one to give it to him…after all, according to Voldemort, who had his own bizarre reasons, she had some sort of power. Some sort of hidden power—perhaps this ability I was sensing…this ability to be evil. I shuddered involuntarily, closing my eyes for a second.

And when I opened them, she was gone.

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I don't know what happened. I closed my eyes, wishing I was with Harry, and then suddenly I felt a jerk below my navel as if I was touching a portkey. But I wasn't. I had simply willed and I had appeared. Cautiously I opened my eyes and looked around. I was in a dark room, a bedroom of some sorts, and on the bare wooden bed lay the biggest snake I had ever seen in my life.

Oddly, I recognized it, even though I had never seen the thing in my life. "Nagini," I whispered, and the snake slithered up to me, wrapping itself around my legs. Instead of screaming or running which I had expected myself to do, I welcomed the feeling and let the snake explore my legs. Its fangs touched my pale skin and I gasped but instead of the pain that I had expected a sense of warmth flowed through me.

What the hell was happening to me?

Shuddering, I moved out of the bedroom and suddenly heard a shout. Whipping my head to the right I was horrified to see Voldemort with a few of his followers shouting curses at Harry. 

I had to help Harry. Steeling myself in their direction I pulled my wand out of my robes and ran into the foyer where the duel was happening. Where the hell was this anyway? But now was not the time to ponder, I had to help Harry…

_I knew you would come, heiress._

Block the voice, I commanded myself. Block it. Don't listen to him, you can't listen to him, there is no fuc—

_Listen to me. Kill Potter. Kill him. Kill him. You will become so powerful that wizards will not look you in the eye…look at me, look at my power, look at these blind fools who follow me in everything I do…_

I looked.

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I gasped. Where had she gone? Cursing I looked around wildly as if expecting her to be hiding behind some statue or something? It was so early, I didn't know who to turn to. Glancing at my watch I noticed it was 5:19. Shit. Who knew where she'd gone, anyway? 

Think, I commanded myself. Think. What was the most important thing for me to do right now? Add Potter, Hermione, and Voldemort and something explosive was about to happen. Sprinkle on a few death eaters and you have a situation so dangerous that the whole wizard world could be affected by it. There was so much at stake I did not know where to begin. I did not want to ask anyone for help, I had always managed to do everything by myself and now—even though my girlfriend was in mortal danger, and hell, maybe I could be too—was no exception.

I did the only thing I could think of. I went to the library.

At 5:21 in the morning, it is a very eerie place to be, and I didn't have anything on me to sneak into the Restricted Section. I didn't have an Invisibility Cloak and I didn't have any of those passes I sniped off of Snape. Crap. I would just have to be as quiet as possible. I had to find something, had to find _something_ about the counter potion to the Firehorn. I needed to.

I closed my eyes, trying to remember the main ingredient in that blasted potion. Think, I commanded myself. Or use logic. Memory. The Potion was all about the mind…what ingredient influenced memory and thoughts…Jabberknoll feathers! Jabberknoll feathers were the key ingredient in a Firehorn potion! 

Thus, I had to find an ingredient that contained the exact opposite of a Jabberknoll feather. And that was the eerie, nearly impossible to obtain, dried billywig sting.

Nevertheless, I began my frantic (and as quiet as possible) search. This was really a matter of life and death.

---------------------------------------------------------

Voldemort was right. Power was everything and once I had power I could do anything I wanted…could set the house-elves free…could uplift barriers based on prejudices…could rid the world of mud bloods…no, Hermione, I chided myself, get a grip on yourself. No. No. Look at him!

I looked at him and tried to focus on anything bad. Nothing came to mind. He was all-powerful, had his own band of supporters…he was a living corpse! My real mind had come back to me for a second and I used the energy to help Harry. I had to help Harry, who this whole time had been staring at me in the oddest fashion ever, and I understood—how often is the person you supposed to be your best friend really the heiress of your mortal enemy?

"It's all right, Harry," I called out, fearful that the new thoughts that Voldemort had subtly and ingeniously (more praise of the horrid creature?) ingrained with my own so it was nearly indistinguishable to tell them apart, I was so fearful that the thoughts would take over and I would hurt Harry.

"Hermione?" he asked uncertainly.

Forgetting whatever my original plan was, I charged at Voldemort, running. I was going to hit him with my _bare_ hands; was going to kill him for making my life so miserable, was going to…

I never finished my sentence. Harry had dived to pull me back and Voldemort was pulling me in the other direction—or at least, his mind was. "Harry stop," I pleaded, "please. I have to do this. I have to kill him."

"No, Hermione," Harry said, bewildered. "I must kill him. The prophesy, remember?"

I remembered, but the prophesy had missed this one little detail—I was his heiress!

"He's too powerful," I gasped, because Voldemort had suddenly hit me with a very useful spell—the immobilizing spell, and I was rooted to the spot. 

Suddenly a wave of inspiration came over me. "Harry," I called out, hoping he would understand my small coded (evil) message, "Bellatrix."

The death eaters looked at each other, a bit confused. Bellatrix wasn't even among them tonight and still I had called her name. Luckily Harry seemed to have grasped the meaning.

"_Avada__ Kedavra_," he said, quietly but firmly, pointing his wand at the nearest death eater.

The death eater crumpled.

I was flabbergasted. Harry did apparently have more hate than I had expected—I had not meant Avada Kedavra when I had said Bellatrix (in his fifth year, Harry had tried the Killing Curse on her but had not been successful). I had meant something more complex, hoping he'd think of family ties and stun Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort's right hand man. I'd hoped that by doing that Voldemort would have had a state of confusion in which Harry could either kill him or escape. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I nearly ripped out the pages of the books as I combed through anything that contained dried billywig stings. Everything was useless…I did not need truth serums or happiness potions or love potions or sleeping potions…

And then I found something that could possibly be of interest. It was a potion I had never heard of, titled the Arctic potion. Apparently, it had been created by a wizard named Arc the Arctic and he claimed it to…cleanse the memory of anything that was recently infiltrated with the normal thoughts! Meaning, Hermione would lose those evil urges that she kept getting—she'd retain information that she was Heiress of Voldemort and everything but she would not…succumb to his powers.

I had to tell her to use the potion. I scanned the ingredients list carefully and was disappointed but not surprised to see that most of the ingredients were either illegal or very difficult to obtain. Perhaps Snape could help? But I would never go to Snape over this, he probably wouldn't even believe me—the tale was so farfetched. I glanced at my watch in desperation. Hermione would know, if anyone did. 5:49 a.m. But how was I supposed to tell her? I didn't even know where she was!

Tearing the page from the book I slammed it shut, not even bothering to replace it, and ran out of the library at top speed. To hell with it. I had to tell someone, Dumbledore, even…Hermione might even have killed Potter or something by now…

And just as I was racing to Dumbledore's office (why, I do not know. It's not like the man slept in there; it was, after all only six in the morning), an apparition began to form in front of me. Slowly but surely the ghostly apparition filled out and in front of me stood…Potter? 

"What the hell?" I cursed, staring at him.

He looked around wildly. "Malfoy!" he gasped. "Malfoy, fuck, she sent me back!"

I didn't know how he really knew of my relationship with Hermione but right now neither of us cared that for the last seven years we didn't talk to each other unless it involved an insult of some sort. "Sent you back?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah. Shit, I dunno how but…one moment I was there…I'd killed this death eater…and the next minute, she was saying, Harry, how could you…and she closed her eyes, and I was about to ask what she was doing…but then…I came here, I don't know how but I'm here. Shit we have to go to Dumbledore!"

Hermione, alone with Voldemort and the death eaters…no, Dumbledore couldn't do anything right now.

Thrusting the page at Potter, I shouted, "No! You can't! Hermione is in grave danger right now. They can change her mindset permanently. You have to go back." 

Harry opened and closed his mouth like a fish. "Go back?" he squeaked. 

"Where were you?" I demanded.

"My old house," he said, shaking his head slowly. "Apparently the house that my parents lived in…Godric's Hollow."

"Then go back there!" I shouted wildly.

"I don't know how!"

But it was as if the same idea had come to us at once. The two of us pulled out our wands, one saying "_Accio__ Firebolt_" and the other saying "_Accio__ Nimbus 2001_". 

We were in for a hell of a day.

A/N: Okay, so things picked up a bit in the chapter. Thanks so much for the reviews! And I updated quite fast for my usual standards, but I am all gung-ho about finishing up the story! Anyway, please review. 


	13. Enveloping Darkness

The Enemy Chapter 13

It was cold in the place, and the temperature was quite understandable. After all, the house had been empty for…well, since Harry's parents had died anyway. I assumed that nobody had bought the house after such a tragedy; people, especially muggles, are really quite superstitious. 

I stood there, shivering, and looked unhappily at Voldemort and followers, and for some odd reason, wasn't able to _feel_ anything. It was as if, the second I sent Harry back, all emotion had been ripped away from me and tossed to the dustbin. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I should look at Voldemort and feel fear, uncertainty, hatred…should look at the Death Eaters and think weak, unstable, yet loyal creatures…and yet, I felt absolutely nothing when I did look at them. Voldemort was discussing something or the other with one of his prominent Death Eaters, and being Hermione Granger, I knew I really ought to be listening, ought to be hatching an escape plan before they did worse to convert me into a Dark Side mad woman, but I wasn't. I wasn't doing anything. I just stood there and shivered.

Voldemort turned to me presently and my face met his, both of us wearing identical unpleasant smiles. A shiver went through my back as I thought of the stupid symbolism in that. We really were alike, in so many horrible ways…each wanting to prove ourselves to the world, each with this thirst for knowledge, and as I had begun to discover about myself, this thirst for…

He cut my thoughts off with his own. _Yes, my heiress. It is perfectly true, what you were about to think, I can sense it about you as well…part of the reason I picked you. But I couldn't inform Lucius or his son, no…you are far better than either of those two idiots, far better…_

I didn't know what to think. This wasn't in a book or anything. You couldn't just read up on how to be a Dark Lord's Heiress, and you couldn't just read up on how to not be one either. 

But I didn't really have to do anything because just at that instant, Voldemort began speaking out loud. "Let me introduce you," he said to his whole fleet of death eaters, "to my…protégé, shall we say. Hermione."

The Death Eaters, with the exception of Lucius Malfoy, Avery, and a few others that had been present at my 'initiation', looked a bit surprised. "Your daughter?" one of them asked carelessly.

He was in for a real time, I thought grimly as I observed the poor man screaming on the ground in agony as Voldemort lazily watched, with a small smile of amusement playing on his lips. It was very casual, and I was actually not surprised to see that I felt the same way. I didn't seem to care anymore that some poor bastard was being tortured, in fact, my feelings were one with Voldemort's…a lazy sort of appreciation, almost. Entertainment. What kind of monster was I becoming? 

It was the oddest sensation I had ever felt. There were truly two parts of me now, the part that had become, through the use of Firehorn potion and whatever else that the devious Dark Lord had put upon me, practically evil, and then there was the other part, the old Hermione, full with love or lust or just appreciation for an evil boy but was actually a good girl. Either way, I was doomed. I could become the next Dark Lady, and forget about Draco, Harry, Ron, and whoever else that used to matter, or I could cease this nonsense, have Draco, and not exactly be on good terms with Harry, Ron, and whoever else that used to matter.

It was truly hell, and I didn't know how to escape the burn.

-------------------------------------

I couldn't believe it. Here I was, flying early in the morning, with the boy I'd hated more than anything else in my school years, to find the girl I'd hated more than anything else in my school years, who now happened to occupy nearly all my thoughts.

I was infatuated, to say in the least. It was a bit scary. I'd never cared so much about anything in my life, and now I was caring about a person, a breathing, moving person that was also unfortunately Heiress to the Dark Lord.

Was anything in my life not connected to the dark side in some way? 

As we zoomed through the chilly morning air, I turned to look at Potter. He looked focused, brows furrowed in concentration as if Hermione was a Snitch he just had to catch. But my reasons…differed. Hermione wasn't a goal…she was a necessity. Suddenly something occurred to me. 

"Hey...Potter," I said awkwardly, addressing the boy I hadn't talked to in six years without an insult. 

He turned and looked at me peculiarly. "Malfoy," he acknowledged slowly. 

"Do you know where the place...where Hermione is?" I asked, feeling stupid and shy and silly all at once. A month ago, I would have pissed myself if I'd gotten wind of the fact that in the future I'd be having a conversation with Potter about Hermione. It was too strange to even comprehend. 

"She's at my old house, Malfoy. Thought I told you that earlier," he said crisply.

"I know, but are you sure you know how to get there? We're…going to be in loads of trouble." I couldn't believe I was caring about some detentions while so many people's lives were either in danger or about to be drastically changed.

Potter turned to look at me, and I could see his expression held no malice, only a true earnest to explain what he meant when he began to speak. "You know, I didn't know where Godric's Hollow was…but…it's hard to explain—I just know where to go. I don't know why, I just do."

I nodded. Somehow, the explanation was reasonable. I suppose it could happen, with everything else that had happened recently. "Oh, and Potter," I said suddenly, the words blurting out of my mouth before I could stop them, "how come you knew...about me and Hermione?"

Potter gave me a half-hearted, weak sort of smile. "Intuition."

The rest of the ride passed in silence, until Potter began to spiral downwards to a modest home in the middle of lush greenery. "That's it," he said, pointing to the dome shaped roof. "She's probably in the foyer. That's where they were earlier."

Suddenly I felt stupid again. How in the world…what in the world could the two of us possibly do? We couldn't just barge in, grab Hermione, and leave again. Not unless we wanted to be Avada Kedavra'd or Crucio'd to death. 

"What are we going to do?" I asked him, letting the word 'idiot' sink into me. I felt like a complete and total idiot. I didn't have a clue as to what was going on. And Potter, Potter was so damn secretive! I didn't understand how he could suddenly disappear within the night, how he could suddenly appear back a little later, and how the hell he always knew exactly what to do. Goddamn it. It was unnerving, almost, the extent to how perfect he was. It revolted me. It repulsed me. I respected it, oddly. I really did.

But Boy Wonder shrugged. "I don't know about you…but, well, this is my time. I have to face Voldemort, and I know…I'm either going to…oh, forget it."

He didn't continue, but I somehow knew exactly what he was going to say. And once again, the weirdest things came out of my mouth, and I felt repulsed and annoyed and as if I was going soft…yet at the same time, it all worked so perfectly that you would have thought we'd been friends, even. "Good luck," I whispered.

He cocked his head at me and gave that same half-hearted smile. "Thanks."

He disappeared inside and after a moment, I followed. In front of me lay a familiar scene—Voldemort and the Death Eaters, with Hermione standing firmly near Voldemort. I shuddered to think what they had done to her, how badly she'd been changed from what she'd been earlier. Not that it had been much better even. She'd had an evil streak implanted in her at that time as well, and maybe now it had intensified.

She gasped when she saw me. "Draco," she said loudly, and all eyes swung from Potter to me. 

Voldemort and my father both looked at me coldly. My father was the first to speak. "Draco," he said icily. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here? Why aren't you in school?"

I didn't know what to say, so I kept silent, casting my eyes downward. Voldemort addressed me next. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Once again I kept silent, and then suddenly I heard ice-cold words burst from his mouth. "Crucio!" he yelled and the jet of red light issued from his wand. I was frozen, it seemed, glued to the spot quite firmly, until the curse hit me and all hell broke loose.

I could not even think as the pain enveloped me…could not do anything but control the screams…couldn't be weak…

-----------------------------------------------------

I gasped when I saw Draco on the ground, writhing, twisting his body around so unnaturally, silently accepting his fate… I looked over at Voldemort, who had the same stance as he'd had earlier with the poor death eater. He was watching lazily, small amusement again, but this time I didn't feel that way. I felt terrible, like a part of me was also writhing on the floor, no, he had to stop this, poor Draco!

"Stop!" I yelled before I could control my words. I too was terrified of Voldemort. The Cruciatus curse was supposed to be an unbelievable amount of pain and there was no way I wanted to experience it. 

Voldemort turned to me, his red eyes blazing. Harry stood behind him, green eyes just as cold. So far Harry had been ignored, a little bit at least, because of Draco's rather dramatic entrance. And why hadn't he spoken? Why hadn't he told them why he was here? Come to think of it, why was he here? 

"What did you say?" Voldemort asked me, anger evident in his high voice. 

"Stop it," I replied miserably. "Please, can't you see…you're _hurting_ him! You can't do that!"

Voldemort laughed, if you could call a high-pitched scream of raucousness laughter. "And yet you didn't stop me when poor McNair had to suffer through it?" he asked curiously. I could tell he was not merely asking a rhetorical question, he really did want to know why I felt differently about Draco.

"I won't speak until you stop it," I begged, tears prickling at my eyes. I wanted to wipe them away, but that was actually pushed to the back of my mind as I tried hard to comprehend why…why I cared so much. Sure, I did fancy Draco, a lot even…but how come Voldemort's tight control over my mind had suddenly faded when I saw Draco being tortured? How come?

To my surprise, Voldemort flicked his wand in Draco's direction and the curse was halted. Draco lay on the floor breathing heavily and before I control myself I ran over to him.

"Are you okay?" I asked breathlessly, not sure if I should…touch him or anything. 

He smiled very weakly. "I just…got hit," he panted, "with the Cruciatus curse…do you…think…I'm okay?"

We laughed softly, once again bonded by pain, distrust, and uncertainty. "Sorry," I said and before I could control myself I'd bent down to kiss him on his cheek. Then I turned and grudgingly walked back to Voldemort. I knew he was expecting answers and I was perfectly willing to give them to him, I suppose. If I even knew the answers myself, which I wasn't sure I did.

"The reason for this?" he asked me coldly as I turned back to him.

I hung my head worried that if I looked at him he was going to understand what I myself had felt an undercurrent of but a few moments ago. I tried to think of another plausible answer, not wanting to give him the truth.

"I believe it is because I actually know Draco Malfoy," I said slowly, trying to make my words convincing.

"Expand." His one-word responses invoked terror in nearly everyone. They could mean a number of things, some of which it was painful even to sit and contemplate. Taking a deep breath I expanded.

"Well…when…you tortured, um, McNair, I found it to be perfectly all right because I did not know him. However when the same torture was inflicted on…Draco, I, um, felt a spark of…compassion—because I'd seen him grow up at Hogwarts. I knew him too well."

Voldemort regarded me with those malevolent red eyes. "You're going to have to learn to overcome that. No heiress can betray her responsibilities just because she knows a person well."

I nodded, about to breathe a sigh of relief that he'd bought my fabricated story, when he spoke again. And this time the words were truly chilling.

"You're lying," he hissed. "Nagini, she's lying, isn't she?"

The bloody snake uncoiled itself and slithered away from the corner in which it had been watching the whole ordeal. It moved up to me, and I was frozen to the ground in fear as it coiled itself around my legs, tightening, loosening, tightening, loosening, in a pattern that made me want to heave up last night's dinner—I was so terrified.

And then, the snake turned to Voldemort and slowly, deliberately, nodded its head.

I nearly fainted from the shock and the fear that I felt but I could not say anything at all. I wondered briefly if this was the reason that Draco had not answered Voldemort or his father when they'd questioned him. But no, the reason he'd stayed quiet somehow seemed a lot deeper than what he'd portrayed on the surface. If we ever got out of this mess alive, I made a mental note to ask him.

"Why do you lie?" Voldemort asked softly. I knew that the softer his voice got, the more dangerous he was apt to become.

I made some sort of indistinguishable noise between a squeak and a moan of fear and Voldemort chuckled cruelly. "Look at me," he commanded.

 I raised my eyes and then my brown eyes met his red ones and a spark of understanding was lit between them. I knew I was doomed, I knew that he'd understood the same realization that had come to me earlier when I had stopped him from torturing Draco.

Voldemort's lips, if they could even be called lips, turned upward to form a horrid looking sneer and he looked at me with pure venomous distaste. "I can't believe my own heiress would succumb to something so disgusting and frivolous."

I gasped. He really knew. Oh, he really did! What was I going to possibly do? How could I escape from here alive?

Voldemort continued and I felt my face flaming red when he announced it for everyone to hear. "You are in love," he spat, "with Lucius's son."

The room was deathly silent and I sneaked a glance at Draco, who seemed to be resolved not to look at me. He looked toward the ground and I cowered, wondering if the love was only one-sided. Perhaps I'd been too hasty. Was it awful to be killed for love? I heard the words "Romeo and Juliet" at the back of my mind but refused to listen to them. Shakespeare could make up his tragedies but my life could not become one. I had to get out, I had to, had to…no way could I let myself be killed by the likes of Voldemort…

"Dearest Hermione," Voldemort said, glaring at me. "We cannot have such obstacles in your path for becoming an heiress, you know."

I could not say anything. A lump the size of England had formed in my throat.

"Thus," Voldemort continued, looking directly at Lucius now, "we'll have to get rid of the obstacle."

Cold fear swept through me as I heard the words wash over me. I looked at Lucius and Draco, both of them considerably paler than they had been before. Lucius looked helpless and unhappy, but he did not say anything. Smart man, I thought to myself. I knew that if Lucius dared say a word Voldemort, in his fury, would not hesitate to do away with the both of them.

Voldemort smiled evilly and raised his wand towards Draco.

I didn't have time to think. I found myself running in front of the boy, screaming, "NO!" at the top of my lungs…and saw to my surprise that Harry was also running, screaming like a mad man, wand out and pointed at Voldemort.

Voldemort uttered the killing curse, and I knew he was so angry he didn't care which one of us three died, but as luck would have it, all three of us ducked and it bounced somewhere in the background where it remained perfectly harmless.

Harry's face was white now and he shook a little, pointing his wand directly at Voldemort. Everyone could see the hate etched on his face—I had never seen Harry look so angry in his life.

I was not expected for the next words out of Harry's mouth. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

Voldemort, it seemed was not ready for those words either. Everything up till then had been fast paced and uncertain, but now it seemed to move in slow motion as the green curse hurled through the air and stopped directly in front of Voldemort. 

Nobody dared breathe as Voldemort crumpled, screaming loudly, screaming and screaming…and somewhere in that jumble of words, I heard my name. I knew what he wanted me to do. Continue his place…become Dark Lady of the Wizarding world.

A/N: Well, hope it was long enough for you guys! Ah, stuff picks up a bit more now. Next chapter: more questions answered and such. Well, thank you all so much for your fantastic reviews. Please review this chapter—I know some people are reading and not reviewing, and seriously, reviews make me want to churn out chapters faster. 


	14. Convince me

The Enemy Chapter 14

Nobody moved, and after a few moments I knew my foot was asleep. I fought the urge to stamp it against the wooden floor but it was getting rather difficult. I'd gone into shock the moment Voldemort's crumpling body had hit the floor; it was almost too much to comprehend.

The man my father had dutifully served for an unbelievable amount of time, fifteen years, to be exact, was gone. In one moment. That was all it took to defeat him, it seemed…one moment. One swish of the wand, one angry curse bellowed through the air, and he was gone. 

They said that the Killing Curse didn't work on him; that he was superior to the rest of the wizards and witches because he was the only one who could escape such a final and ultimate means of death. Yet, right here, right now, he had died from it, we'd all of us witnessed it…Hermione, myself, Potter, and the seven or eight death eaters littering the room like trash. I looked over to my father, and his jaw was dropped, the yellowish, fang-like teeth quite visible to the rest of us. Now was not a time to think that my father really ought to whiten his teeth, but sometimes I had the tendency to think of trivial and petty things at inappropriate times. I looked over to Hermione and she was clutching Potter's robes as if her life depended on it. I wanted to walk over to her, reassure her that everything would be okay—I wanted to be the strong, supporting man in this time of dire need. Potter got everything. Always!

I reasoned with myself. Now was probably the worst time to be jealous of Harry Potter. He'd just killed a very high-profile criminal, so to speak. I couldn't take the deafening silence anymore, I had to speak. I had to say something, at least. But speaking meant that you were confirming the situation, truly putting it into reality. Speaking meant that you were dealing with it; finding ways to solve new dilemmas.

"He's dead," I finally found myself whisper. I was angry that I hadn't said the words any louder; I felt weak and ready to pass out all of a sudden. But I had to be strong; hell, I wasn't even involved in this bloody mess…well not really. Aside from the fact that it was partially my fault that Hermione had ever received the Dark Mark, ever become Voldemort's heir. Merlin my life was so screwed up!

My father turned to look at me, his cold grey eyes staring directly into my identical ones. "Good observation," he said icily. For the first time I did not back down to his ridicule, because as I'd noticed throughout these death eater ceremonies… it wasn't about him being ruthless, cruel, or uncaring. He was teaching me. In his own sick and twisted way he was really teaching me—telling me that real life, after Hogwarts, wasn't exactly going to be lambs frolicking in a field…and I had to know how to respond. I had always backed down to him, and somehow, I knew at this point that he didn't want me to do that. Never wanted me to do that. He was telling me, instructing me that I had to be brave and stand up for myself. And now, now that anything was possible (If Voldemort had just succumbed to Avada Kedavra, then anything was truly possible!) I was going to do it.

"I know," I replied, mocking his distant, harsh voice.

The rest of the death eaters, plus Hermione and Potter, seemed to be quite immersed in the little drama-fest my father and I had just created. We stared each other down for a few seconds before he finally broke it. A fleeting feeling of joy and triumph spread throughout my body; I'd beaten my father at something! Beaten the unbeatable. It seemed to be somewhat of a theme tonight…or should I have said, this morning. I glanced at my watch. Nine a.m. What the hell was Dumbledore doing right now? Panicking, that three of his students were missing?

Amusing situation, really. Too bad I wasn't there to see it.

Hermione spoke next, her voice almost trembling with each word. "What are we going to do?" she said softly. 

I looked at her, and slowly drew in a breath. "Go back," I said as forcefully as possible. "We have to go back."

As I began to walk towards her, Potter's voice echoed throughout the house, and all of the death eaters, who couldn't stop looking at the fallen form on the floor, looked up with interest. "No, Hermione. You will not move."

Hermione glanced at her friend in fear and confusion, and I saw a flicker of ice-cold determination on Potter's face. His voice, although raspy, contained a certain strength that the strongest man would stop to listen to. Yet another thing to be jealous of, goddamn it! 

"Hermione," Potter said dangerously, "did you hear what Voldemort said when he was dying? Did you?"

Hermione looked down at the floor.

"You did, didn't you? Now I've been catching bits and pieces of this weird situation here between you, Voldemort, and Malfoy over there, but I deserve an explanation. And you are giving it to me."

Hermione sighed, and as I looked around the room, I noticed every single Death Eater, including those who actually did know what was going on, had turned their heads to watch Hermione intently as she began the long explanation. 

"Well," she began weakly. "It started…started at the beginning of seventh year, when Draco was asked to sum—"

She stared at me in disbelief, and I knew my expression mirrored the same feeling. Loud, hacking coughs flew out of her mouth, and she was choking again. I was terrified. This meant that that charm that Voldemort had placed on her; it was still there, it was still active. Well if it still existed then who knew what other unpleasant surprises that he'd left behind? I almost didn't want to know. I rushed over to Hermione, who'd fallen to the floor, knees buckling in weakness.

Potter beat me to it. "Are you okay?" he asked her worriedly. "Talk, Hermione, why can't you?"

She just shook her head and looked pointedly at me. It was then that I remembered that Voldemort hadn't placed any charms upon me; he'd trusted that I wouldn't go rag to Potter or Weasley about what really happened. And ordinarily, I wouldn't have. I'm not that kind of person and Voldemort had an uncanny ability to tell exactly what kind of person you were. In Hermione's case, she was kind, caring, open-minded and honest. He'd put in a lot of effort to reverse those aspects…and it was working. She wasn't all that kind or caring anymore, and neither was she honest. I wasn't sure about open-minded because I myself was not of muggle descent, so I couldn't tell, but I suspected she had moments when she felt anger for mud bloods.

Potter glared at me. "She obviously wants you to speak for her, Malfoy," he said, stressing my name as if it were the Dark Lord's name, "so go ahead."

"Well," I bit out, "She can't talk herself because of a convenient little charm that's been placed on her," I informed him, "and neither you nor I have the power to break it. One of those lovely charms that can't be broken unless the placer of the charm is the one to remove it."

Potter gazed at me stonily, but I could see the doubt creeping up into his eyes. "I see," he finally said. "Do go on."

"Well," I said, fighting the urge to slowly let the tale unfold—I was a little scared of the fact that Potter was capable of killing—nobody would have thought it possible. "Er, I was… instructed by Voldemort and my father," I gulped, glancing over at him. There was no way that I could throw all of the blame on him, or on Voldemort…because I was right here in a nest full of his supporters. "to bring Hermione to Voldemort, and er, I didn't really have a choice, so, uh… I brought her to Voldemort about a month ago."

Potter didn't say anything. He just looked at me, a cruel glint in his eyes that was quite unnerving, though I'd rather die than admit that I might be slightly afraid of Wonder Boy at this moment.

"When I brought her to Voldemort," I said softly, "He gave me the Dark Mark…and, well, er, gave Hermione the Dark Mark as well."

Potter drew in his breath sharply, but still didn't speak.

"He proclaimed her Heiress of the Dark Lord…his heir," I continued miserably, suddenly desperate and anxious to finish up the story. "He had her drink Firehorn potion, and if you're not aware of what that is, it basically lets him into her head and infuses their thoughts together."

Potter was looking at Hermione now, who was sitting up on the floor and watching me as I recited the events.

"And," I said, even faster, "As time went on it became increasingly obvious that she was under his influence. She, um, said and did some things… that were very Voldemort-like, and I knew that he had a pretty good control over her thoughts."

I finished up rather lamely and stared at the two of them. Before any of us could speak, my father and another Death Eater, Avery, stepped up, and grasped Hermione's wrists.

Avery looked really rather pissed, and my father did too. In fact, I noticed that all of the Death Eaters had formed some sort of ring around us. 

"You," Avery growled to Potter, "Lucius, take care of him."

My father dropped Hermione's wrists and advanced menacingly towards Potter, who didn't back down. This ultimately turned out to be a bad idea on Potter's part; my father had soon whispered a silky binding spell and Potter was soon situated in a corner of the room, excluded from the circle, hands and feet bound. He probably couldn't see a thing and I soon noticed the cleverness of Avery and my father; by not letting him see what was going on they were giving him one of the worst punishments someone so interfering as him could possibly have.

Avery gave me a withering look which basically meant shut up and sit tight. I knew that if I dared intervene in any manner Avery would not hesitate to kill me. That my father was there was only a slight reassurance—I knew he didn't want me dead but if it was for a "greater evil" then he would not mind such a small sacrifice.

Finally Avery spoke to Hermione. "You," he spat, "are but a filthy mud blood. We all of us were terribly afraid of going against Voldemort's will, but now that he is out of the picture (and here he sent a quick glance in the direction of the corpse, which sat directly in the middle of the circle…all the death eaters avoided looking at it), we can do whatever we want to you."

Hermione cowered, and I wanted nothing more to help her. Unconsciously I took a step towards her and before I knew what happened, Avery had swiveled around and sent a binding spell towards me.

Miserable I sat down on the cold floor and waited unhappily, only an observer of the darkness around me.

-------------------------------------------

I was afraid.

I hadn't expected the Death Eaters to gang up on me the second that Voldemort had died. I felt fleeting loss, I didn't know why but I was truly upset that he had died. This current attack on me did give a good reason to be upset that Voldemort was dead, but…from the minute that his body hit the ground I felt that a part of me had literally died.

I didn't know if his voice was still in me, but I shuddered to think how creepy it would be to hear a dead man in your head. Oddly I was half compelled to wish that he was still in my head—I'd grown, disgustingly enough, a little fond of him. He'd been rather a confidant, not a willing one of course—but since he could read all my thoughts anyway, it hadn't been half-bad.

Avery glared at me most unceremoniously before speaking. "You don't deserve such an honor," he said angrily.

Honor? I wondered to myself. "What do you mean?" I bit out, not wanting to show that I was in the least bit afraid.

Avery growled impatiently. "You don't even know the powers you have? This is so ridiculous," he said to the men and few women around him, "truly ridiculous. He names her heir and she doesn't even know the importance of it."

I didn't say anything. Briefly I wondered how frizzy my hair had turned out to be in the stressful situation. I also was curious to know what had become of Harry. I felt terrible for him, poor thing, being pushed to the side. I wondered when Dumbledore was going to come save us. I did not doubt it; he was an omniscient being to us. He knew everything. I tried not to think of the possibility that he had no idea where the three of us were. 

"Mud blood," Avery said nastily. "Let me explain this to you."

I looked up, propelled by this desire that I have to know everything that is possible. 

"You will never need to apparate," for one he said angrily. "You can transport yourself and others simply by thought."

"What do you mean?" I asked, suddenly trembling. I had a very bad feeling about this. I knew I'd done something…

"Well… you just have to have a burning power to transport them—have to have an exact location, et cetera. How do you think Harry Potter found his way here in the first place?"

I gasped. I knew I had done something! I'd transported Harry—while he was sleeping! Envisioned him in Godric's Hollow, fully dressed and with his wand…who knows, I could have planted a murderous thought in his head, one that made him capable of murder! 

It was absolutely terrifying.

"What else can I do?" I asked softly.

Avery scoffed, but didn't answer my question. I suspected that he himself did not know the full extent of powers that Voldemort had bestowed upon me. Now that if any other thought was pretty scary.

"Anyway," piped up Pettigrew, that stupid excuse for a death eater, "We've decided to get rid of the obstacle."

Avery shot a nasty glare in his direction, and Pettigrew squirmed under the limelight. Served him right, I thought angrily. Horrid little bugger!

"Voldemort's not here to protect you anymore," Lucius said, his voice cutting like steel. "Can you believe this?" he asked his death eaters. "The Lord threatened my son, my family, for the likes of this! This intruder into our circle!"

The Death Eaters raised up a chant that certainly agreed with Lucius's words. I wondered how they were going to kill me. I knew I had no chance for escape—the only two people on my side were bound and one of them couldn't even see what was going on.

Avery pulled his wand out of his robes, chuckling softly. "Say goodbye, sweet heiress," he said sarcastically. "Too bad you weren't able to fulfill your master's final wish."

At that moment, something in me really clicked. In a dangerous way. How could he _insult_ Voldemort, how _dare_ he insult the man he served so faithfully for fifteen years? How awful, the bloody idiot was going to pay…

"Merlin help me!" I found myself barking at them. "How am I supposed to do the Dark Lord's work with idiots like you! You think that you can suddenly kill me and get away with it? I'm the Dark Lord's heiress, soon to be the Dark Lady!"

Avery looked at me, a puzzled expression on his face. "Yes, that's correct—Voldemort knows what is going on. He wasn't an idiot, and by doing this, are you saying your ex-master was stupid? Do you?"

Avery dropped the wand.

"You blasphemer! Bad name upon the Dark Lord!"

I found myself bending to pick the wand, my hands shaking slightly. "_Avada__ Kedavra_," I snarled angrily.

The light hit him and in a flash another body lay on the ground, expression of fear and disbelief still lingering on his face. I suddenly felt drained and exhausted and slumped towards the floor myself.

It wasn't the fact that I'd just killed someone.

It was that I wasn't quite sure if Voldemort's lingering thoughts had done it, or if I'd done it of my own accord.

A/N: Thank you for your magnificent reviews. Well I'll be wrapping up next chapter, in which Hermione will see the path she wants most, a lot more D/Hr interaction, and Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore. Please review this chapter! Thanks. Oh and one last thing: Tell me if you prefer a Dark Lady Hermione or a good Hermione. This may or may not influence my decision but I'm just curious.


	15. Think Forever

The Enemy Chapter 15

Nausea bubbled up in my stomach and I held it tight, trying to ignore everything around me. Of course it did not work; who could ignore dead bodies and the stench of sizzling wands? Hermione had sunk to the floor in what was probably shock and exhaustion—it had been a good ten minutes and nobody had attended to her. Around me the chaos spread like wildfire. Everyone was going insane; it was so loud that my ears had begun to tune out the incessant buzz of high-pitched squeals. I stood quietly in a corner, because in truth I had nothing to say, nothing to do. I could not stand death, I realized. And if that was the case, then how in hell could I ever become a death eater?

It wasn't meant to be.

My father was wrong. Death was disgusting, saddening, rotting, wrong… I could go on forever on the evils and the horrors of death. Killing, even. It had shocked me when Hermione had done that but a part of me struggled to believe it was Voldemort's presence behind that unexpected move. A crumpled cloak sat in the opposite corner of the room—the Death Eaters had dragged Voldemort's carcass away from the crowd. No one wants to be reminded that their leader is gone, right? Such was the case with the Death Eaters. As for Avery, he was near Hermione's fallen form (I assumed she was unconscious.) I wanted to help her but I knew that now was not a good time. One could never tell with the Death Eaters. Were they for her, or against her? 

Probably against. Who would want to be controlled by a seventeen-year-old girl? They were older, they thought themselves wiser and more experienced in the… art (or should I say reek) of death. I looked over at my father, who had taken off the binds the minute Hermione had done away with Avery. Potter, unfortunately, still sat in the furthest corner of the room, bound and probably upset. His expression tightened when he saw me looking at him and I smirked at him. Even though I'd realized that I didn't care much for the Dark Side, so to speak, I still hated Potter.

My father suddenly came up to me and snarled, "Draco. Take care of…of _her_. I don't want her to die; I have a feeling that _he_ knew something like this would happen. He was prepared."

I wanted to laugh. My father, brave, cruel, causer of death… afraid to say the names of Hermione Granger and Voldemort? With a small smirk I nodded gracefully. "Of course, father," I said dutifully, as was expected. Although at the moment I didn't think he would notice if I did not address him properly.

I walked unsteadily over to Hermione and shook her gently. Finally a brilliant stroke of genius reminded me that I was indeed a wizard and could use my wand. I quickly muttered a waking spell and she arose, rubbing her forehead.

"Draco," she said softly. "Draco I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your father I promise it's just he insulted…he insulted Voldemort and I didn't want to kill him but I had to…"

I was astounded. "Hermione," I said quickly, my adrenaline gradually pumping faster and faster, "what are you talking about? You didn't kill my dad."

Her eyes grew big and glassy. "Yes I did. I killed him."

I turned around and searched the busy room for my father. He was there, walking around, quite normally… what was she on about? "Hermione," I said, pointing in his direction. "He's right there. You didn't kill him."

She stared at him and then at me, looking helpless and unhappy for a second, then it seemed that realization dawned on her face. She smiled grimly and said, "Draco, I killed him in my dreams…"

I didn't say anything. I was beyond confused. Were her dreams predictions of the future? Did they always come true? What was going on?

Finally she continued. "It means he's my enemy… anyone I dream about that ends up dying in the dream…is a traitor, is bad… is good… oh, damn it, I'm so goddamn confused. But I think that your father isn't going to be a death eater anymore now that I'm the one in charge. He's going to leave them forever."

I nodded. "I suppose that sounds about right. He wouldn't want to trust a …" I hesitated to say the word even though I'd said it with such ease up till very recently.

She smiled bitterly. "Go on. Say it. Mud blood! Mud blood! Mud blood! That's all I am, I'll never amount to anything because of my heritage, because of who I am. Race! Prejudice!  It matters to you big, _pureblooded_ people, doesn't it? I'm not good enough! I'm nothing, I pale in comparison, even if I am the Dark Lord's heiress… just because of your fucking _filthy_ blood!"

I was not the only one who heard this rant on Hermione's part. In fact every single death eater in the room, plus Potter, had heard it and were all staring at her in awe. "Her—" Potter began from the other side of the room. His voice sounded weak and weary.

"Shut up, Harry! Can't you see that sugarcoating the truth isn't going to do a damn thing! It's true. They don't respect me because I'm a mud blood. Mud bloods can be bad, yes… but not all of us—I'm here to cleanse the world of filth, and what you people need to realize is that not every mud blood is filthy! I am far more powerful than any one of you will ever be!"

I stared at my father, who hadn't flinched once through her tirade. "Be that as it may, Miss Granger," my father said venomously, "I do not feel that we will get along. This is where I bid everyone good bye, and do not contact me for further… activities," my father said, glaring at the tiny man with a silver hand… Pettigrew, I think.

Hermione bellowed in rage. "Lucius! Get your pureblooded arse back here right now or I will not hesitate to kill you!"

My father was smart enough to realize the truth in the threat. Hermione was more than capable of killing him. Hell she was just as powerful as her predecessor, and no one had expected that. In fact the Death Eaters had been banking on the fact that she had no power of her own; that Voldemort had supplied everything.

Even if he had, it was obvious that it was still with her.

Having stopped in his tracks, my father turned around slowly and looked at Hermione straight in the eye. I knew he was pretending not to be afraid of her, but at the moment I sensed he was just as terrified as if Hermione had been Voldemort himself. "Miss Granger," he began softly, and from experience I knew the softer he spoke the more dangerous he was apt to become (although in this case he was at Hermione's mercy, I doubted he would dare to try anything). "We meet again."

"Of course, Lucius," Hermione said coldly. "How could we not?"

The words exchanged between them were formal, cold, dangerous, and beautiful all at once. Paradoxically beautiful, I mused to myself. Everything about Hermione was.

"I beg of you to excuse me for the morning," my father said. "I have previous engagements that I must attend this afternoon."

"You are not excused," Hermione countered, "unless you sign in blood your oath under me."

Lucius's half-smile had definitely turned into a sneer at this point and he looked almost distressed, something I had never seen from my sure and steady father. Everyone knew that signing in blood was basically signing your life away unless one of the participants died or something. For example, my father had blood signed with Voldemort; now that Voldemort was dead the bond was broken.

Lucius broke out into a run at that moment. He bolted towards the door and Hermione raised her wand—I noticed the gleam of anger in her eyes—and began to shout out the horrible words once more, "_Ava_—"

She was cut off, quite surprisingly, by Potter. Potter had apparently been picking at his binds until they were loose (how he did this I do not know, unless the binds were not magical) and now was here, brave and valiant… and oh-so-nauseatingly-perfect-ready-to-save-another-life. Even though a small part of my mind thanked him, this was one of my family members after all…

"Hermione, don't," Potter pleaded firmly, if there even was such a thing.

"Harry, get out of the way! You there, stop Lucius!" The Death Eater that Hermione was pointing to was scared shitless; he grabbed Lucius under a death-grip and would not let him go. When she was satisfied Hermione turned her attention back to Harry.

"I said don't interfere," she snarled at him. "It isn't your place to."

"Hermione," Potter said slowly, "I can't… what the fuck, what is up with you! Is Voldemort still in your head? You aren't the bloody Dark Lady; you're just a witch who's exceptionally smart at Hogwarts. Come on, let's go back and leave this mess… or let's let the older people take care of this… come on, you, me… and that bonehead—Malfoy, Jr.—over there, we can all go back to school now, right?"

"Shut up," Hermione stated simply. "I'm not leaving, this is my duty. I don't give a fuck about what… Harry, I love you. You're an amazing friend and will always be… but I…aw shit."

Hermione's confusing and conflicting speech was put to an end by the arrival of two very surprised and very familiar figures. There was no doubt as to who had brought them here and by what means.

Professor Dumbledore himself, and behind him trailed a certain red-headed weasel.

-------------------------------------------------------

I dropped the conversation with Harry as I looked with surprise on Professor Dumbledore and Ron. What? For a second I recalled that I had indeed wished that Professor Dumbledore could help me sort out this mess…it must've been that thought that had brought him here, but then what was Ron doing?

"What's going on?" I asked weakly. It was too much to handle for one night… I'd always been conflicted but now the conflict had reached colossal proportions. What was I? Was I follower of the Dark or was I good? I wanted so badly to be both I didn't know what to do except split myself in two and by miracle of miracle I had enough sense to know that splitting myself in two was really not a pleasant option. 

"I'd like to know myself," Professor Dumbledore's authoritative voice boomed out over everyone. The Death Eaters scrambled, trying to leave the room, and I noticed that the man holding Lucius had let him go, and the two of them were madly rushing towards the front of the room.

Dumbledore soon put a stop to that, even though I was sure he didn't have a complete idea of what was really happening. He sent out a large Stunning charm to everyone and the Death Eaters were still, little statues and reminders of what torture my life really was. The only people left mobile were Harry, Ron, the professor, Draco, and of course, me. Shocked, I turned to Dumbledore and greeted him with a dropping jaw.

"Hermione, child," Dumbledore began wearily. "I do not understand what's happening to you."

I shuddered, and somewhere in me felt repulsion for the man I once adored. More Voldemort influence, or had my outlook on life really changed that much? Once again I was thrown mercilessly into the pit of confusion and unhappiness. I just wanted it all to be over, just wanted to pick a side and get it done with…!

"Professor," Harry began, "She… the Dark Lord's heiress…" I tuned him out as he related what he knew to Voldemort, and slumped down on the ground, hugging my knees to my chest and wishing I could be alone with Draco. Deep down inside I was just a teenage girl and all I wanted was grades and my boyfriend. I didn't need this extra heap of problems on top of what I already had as a teen. 

After Harry's little recap was well and done I finally realized that Ron was there as well. He was staring at me, mouth wide open and eyes disbelieving, but looking at the few bodies that scattered the room, he definitely believed what he had heard.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Ron, and noticed that Draco shot me a look of surprise. 

"Well, I was up in Dumbledore's office…reporting you two missing… when Dumbledore began to slowly disappear. I grabbed onto his robes at the last minute and I guess I was brought along…suppose it's because of your thought powers, Hermione?"

"You don't have to sound bitter about it," I replied. "It just happened, okay? Accept it."

"Hermione," Dumbledore spoke up. "Perhaps you don't realize what a big deal this is but believe me this is very important. Of course… ultimately the decision is up to you. Years ago a certain Tom Riddle took the same decision—to be good, or to be evil. You know what Harry, Ron, and I want of you but of course you will be the one to eventually choose and carve your path. Good luck."

I looked at him, rather dumbfounded. I called him here to give me advice like that? Advice I'd known for quite a while and advice that even Sybil Trelawney could have predicted?!

Maybe I'd been wrong about Dumbledore being a panacea for everything. Maybe he was far away from what I'd thought. I probably didn't even need him. I could do this by myself, couldn't I? I'd been doing it so far with just Draco to help me, and that's al I wanted. I needed Harry and Ron, maybe, like a side dish or something… but Dumbledore I could do without. 

"Professor Dumbledore," I began, channeling my fury into words and not actions ( I fought hard against myself just to keep from Avada'ing him right there—at least I still retained a few morals!) "I think that we must part our ways… thank you for your support but I feel I shan't need it any longer."

I had meant for the sentence to be grand and graceful and eloquent and marble beauty but it came out like a desperate plea for help, and Dumbledore knew that. With a small smile he nodded. "Very well, I suppose you should make your decision about right now." Another smile later and a small pop, and the man had apparated away. I stared at the space where he had been with, amazingly, no sense of pity or unhappiness. I really wasn't going to miss him, at least, not yet.

"Ron," I said, turning to the boy that had been one of my best friends for six years, "thank you for not killing me on the spot."

He laughed hollowly, and it was a sound I recognized quite easily. The sound of false, hopeful laughter that maybe everything wasn't as bad as it seemed. It was wrong. Everything was as bad, no, worse than what it seemed like. Good had left the picture to become an outlaw, and I was going to have to search for it if I wanted it. "Hermione," he said as warmly as he could muster at the moment, "I can't believe it, but Merlin knows it's true, huh?" 

I shrugged. "Stuff happens, Ron. I've had good three or four months to get used to this concept, and even though stuff elevated over the last few nights… I was prepared. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner, but you realize that Voldemort had thought of it."

"Voldemort killed Harry's parents, Hermione," Ron pleaded. "He's been your best friend too… you can't just leave us for him, you can't!"

I sighed. People had to understand I was not on Voldemort's side, just the same as I wasn't on Dumbledore's side. "Ron," I explained. "I'm not leaving you for Voldemort. He's dead, and I'm not about to follow faithfully in his footsteps. I'm just saying that I'm not going to fight against the Death Eaters considering that technically I am one. Not to mention I am also appointed Dark Lady. You understand I can't just go and spoil the entire operation of Death Eaters?"

"Why the hell bloody not?" he asked me angrily. "They're bad! They hate people like you, Hermione! I'm not saying being muggleborn is bad at all, but… they say that. How can you go and seek protection under those who will kill you in half a second?"

"They won't kill me, Ron," I said quietly. "They know I'm far more dangerous than they am. I can wipe everyone out within matter of seconds, and I intend to do so should things get out of control. And for that matter, I don't plan on associating with the Death Eaters. I'm leaving them just the way I'm leaving you."

Ron slumped over in defeat and gave me a withering look. "All right, Hermione. You go…discover your…inner self or whatever. Who you really are. Are you Voldemort's Heiress or Harry Potter's best friend? Hell, either way you're famous. Good luck." 

I found his words more touching than Dumbledore's although they were far less articulate. They were still pretty in their own regard, because of the honesty and the candidness that was Ron. Ron couldn't hold back around me and it was something I would miss about him. But I didn't know; maybe I would see him soon. He was in his seventh year now so he also disappeared with a pop. I wondered where he went—probably to Hogsmeade.

Lastly I turned to Harry who met my expression grimly. "I'm going to give you a chance to get away," I said wryly to him. "Now that the Death Eaters are frozen you can get yourself out of here before they remember they're going to kill you. You know they won't hesitate; they've been out for you since what you originally did, yeah?"

Harry nodded. "I'll leave, Hermione. I know you're going to say the same thing to me that you said to Ron—this whole thing about how you are neither good nor bad… but I know what's happened, and I think Malfoy—Draco knows as well."

Surprised I looked over at Draco, who nodded at Harry. What did they know?

"Hermione," Draco began gently. "Do you remember what Voldemort said, a very long time ago, when he first gave you the Dark Mark?"

I shook my head, because of all the tumultuous events that had happened that night. I couldn't remember a selected sentence; after all usually my memory was limited to textbooks and the likes of those sorts of things. 

"He said that you wouldn't want to go back… and I know what he meant. Hermione, he knew it, and now you know it too. It isn't about good or evil at all… that's what's fed to the general population—even the death eaters think it's about good and evil, except for a few, like my father. My father walked out because he knew it would change…something would change. Do you know what?" Draco looked at me expectantly and Harry nodded.

"Hermione," Harry said, picking up where Draco left off. "You do know what we're talking about, and you don't want to see it. It's just power, isn't it? Good and evil fade away when you think about power? Your justifications for everything have been power. You are under the influence of Voldemort's immense power."

I nodded weakly because I knew ultimately the two of them were right. It was power. Voldemort had risen to the top not because of a deep hatred for muggle borns such as myself, but because of a huge want for power. Lucius Malfoy had supported Voldemort not only because he too wasn't very fond of muggle borns but because it would give him even more power.

When you had riches, when you had your life assured, all you wanted was power. And I was greedy.

"Harry," I said slowly, "I'm sorry. I…I can't let it go, I want it, I need it… but I have achieved something Voldemort and Lucius couldn't. I understand this."

Harry smiled genuinely, something I hadn't seen on anyone's face for a very long time. " 'Course you can, Hermione. Hello? Smartest witch that Hogwarts has seen, recently?"

We laughed, and then I remembered the frozen Death Eaters. "I have to let them go," I said. "And then I'm leaving myself. I don't know where to, but I'm not going back to Hogwarts, and I'm not… going to stay here and do lunch with the Death Eaters."

Harry nodded. "I agree. It's the best for you, and when you're ready, please contact me, okay? I love you, Hermione." He hugged me and disappeared quickly, as if he wanted to leave before either of us changed our minds.

So I was left there with Draco, then. I turned to him and smiled. "You're coming with me," I said. 

----------------------------------------------------------

I smiled at her. "Where are you going, then? What do you plan on doing?" I asked her. I was willing to go with her. School could teach me no more than I already knew about life and danger and death and everything I had avoided for the six years I'd dutifully attended.

"I need to go and dig deeper into Voldemort's past. Something compels me to do that, and I'm going to fulfill it. You will help me." Her authoritative tone was nothing short of scary and I nodded quickly. 

As we prepared to embark on this journey of pure power, because good and evil had been left behind in the dust along with broken fragments of Hermione's past life, I couldn't help but think about the enemy. Who was the enemy, ultimately? In the beginning I had been the enemy. Hermione and I had loathed each other. 

Time moved on and Voldemort became the greater enemy for her. I became linked towards her in a way that was quite inexplicable, and as time wore on, even Voldemort joined the same link. Then my father was her enemy, and then Potter, and Weasley, and the entire Gryffindor house… but at the end, it was she who was her enemy. She was her own enemy, her own adversary, her own rival. So was the paradox between friend and foe. You just never knew—change happened everywhere. I wasn't saying that tomorrow Potter and I would become best friends, but that childhood hate had all but dissipated slowly into the air. 

She unfroze the death eaters and stepped outside into warm midday sunshine. I followed her and she turned down the path, a glint in her eye. I ignored it—I was in no mood for more adventures, and more…ah, interesting knowledge. I began on what I hoped was a lighter and happier topic. 

"You said you loved me," I began. "That's a start… Voldemort didn't love anybody."

She looked at me, the glint in her eye sparkling harder. "And how do you know?" she whispered, looking straight at me. For a second I thought I saw a flash of red eyes in her normally brown ones, but I shook my head and the vision had disappeared.

The implications were immense. How did I know, really? Maybe I was just as clueless as Weasley. What had Hermione been hiding from me, then, if anything at all? How much didn't I know? Maybe I didn't know anything at all… hell, instead of this journey coming to an end, maybe everything was just about to begin. Maybe I was as empty as the rest of them. 

A/N: THE END-

I left it at a 'wondering' ending where you can think about what you want Hermione to be in the end. Hey, at least they're together, right? I hope everyone understood the implications at the end and yes they were completely on purpose, just to… add mystery to how much Hermione hid from Draco. If you realize most of the narration of the events come from Draco and if he's missing something then... heh, let's see.

Anyway, if you are curious as to know what the votes for good and evil were, out of those of you that voiced an opinion about it:

3 of you wanted a good Hermione

9 of you wanted an evil Hermione

5 of you didn't care which one/liked the confused Hermione

(and thanks to the rest of you that didn't pick any as well!)

Last but not least I want to thank everyone that has read this story and/or reviewed. I know a lot of people don't review but I want to thank you anyway because at least someone's reading, right? I'm excited I've finally finished a DM/HG fanfic.

As for a sequel, at this point I really don't know. The ending is open enough to do one but I don't think I will. If I do, it will be a very long time from now, so don't look out for one within the next month or so—but I'll put my decision in my bio when I make that decision. I'm a procrastinator, I know.

With all that said, I want to thank you again, sorry for this blasted long author's note, and happy reading and reviewing! Tell me what you thought of this!


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